THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 


MABEL  R.   GILLIS 


A  LIST  OF  THE  ELSIti  BOOKS  AND 
OTHER   POPULAR   BOOKS 

BY 

MARTHA  F1NLEY 


ELSIE  DINSMORE. 

ELSIE'S  HOLIDAYS  AT  ROSELANDS. 
ELSIE'S  GIRLHOOD. 

ELSIE'S    WOMANHOOD. 
ELSIE'S  MOTHERHOOD. 

ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 
ELSIE'S  WIDOWHOOD. 

GRANDMOTHER  ELSIE. 

ELSIE'S  NEW  RELATIONS. 
ELSIE  AT  NAN  TUCKET. 
THE  TWO  ELSIES. 

ELSIE'S  KITH  AND  KIN. 
SLSIE'S  FRIENDS  AT  WOODBURN. 

CHRISTMAS  WITH  GRANDMA  ELSIE. 
ELSIE  AND   THE  RAYMONDS. 

ELSIE    YACHTING    WITH   THE  RAYMONDS. 
ELSIE'S   VACATION. 

ELSIE  AT   VIAMEDE. 
£LSIE  A  T  ION. 

ELSIE  AT  THE  WORLD'S  FAIR. 

ELSIE'S  JOURNEY  ON  INLAND   WATERS. 
ELSIE  AT  HOME. 

ELSIE  ON  THE  HUDSON. 
ELSIE  IN  THE  SOUTH. 
ELSIE'S  YOUNG  FOLKS. 


MILDRED  KEITH. 

MILDRED  AT  ROSELANDS. 

MILDRED'S  MARRIED  LIFE. 
MILDRED  AND  ELSIE. 
MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

MILDRED'S  BOYS  AND  GIRLS. 
MILDRED'S  NEW  DAUGHTER. 


CASELLA. 

SIGNING  THE   CONTRACT  AND   WHAT  IT  COST. 
THE  TRAGEDY  OF  WILD  RIVER   VALLEY. 
OUR  FRED. 

AN  OLD-FASHIONED  BOY. 
WANTED,  A  PEDIGREE. 

THE  THORN  IN  THE  NEST. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME; 


WITH  SOMETHING  ABOUT  HER  RELATIVES 
AND    FRIENDS. 


A  SEQUEL  TO  MILDRED'S  MARRIED  LIFE. 


MAKTHA  FINLEY, 

AUTHOR  or  THE  "ELSIE  BOOKS,"   "  MILDRED 

"MttDBBD    AND    ELSIE,"   "SIGNING    THB 

CONTRACT,"  ETC.,  «TC. 


NEW  YORK : 

DODD,   MEAD   &  COMPANY, 
PUBLISHERS. 


Copyright,  1884,  by  DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME, 


Chapter  Jfirst 


"A  word  epoken  in  due  season,  how  good  is  it  1"— PBOY.  15 :  25. 

"  I'M  to  be  dressed  in  white,  mammy,  with 
blue  sash  and  ribbons,  papa  says,  and  to  go 
back  to  him  as  soon  as  you  are  done  with 
me." 

"  Is  you,  honey  ?  but  co'se  you  is  ;  you 
mos'  neber  wears  nuffin  but  white  when  de 
warm  days  comes  ;  an'  massa  can't  do  widout 
his  darlin'  pet,  now  all  de  res'  am  gone. " 

"  No  ;  nor  I  without  him,"  Elsie  said, 
tears  springing  to  her  eyes.  "  Oh,  don't 
these  rooms  seem  lonely,  mammy  ?  Don't 
you  miss  Annis  ?" 

"  Co'se,  honey,  co'se  I  dose  ;  but  tank 
de  Lord,  I'se  got  my  own  darlin'  chile  lef ." 

"  And  I  have  you   and   papa  left,"  re- 


57' 


4  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

turned  the  little  girl,  smiling  through  her 
tears,  "  and  that's  a  great  deal  ;  papa  alone  is 
more  than  half  of  all  the  world  to  me,  and 
you  know  1  could  never  do  without  you, 
mammy." 

"  Yo'  ole  mammy  hopes  you'll  always 
tink  like  dat,  honey,"  said  Chloe,  taking  out 
the  articles  needed  for  the  little  girl's  toilet. 
"'Pears  like  ole  times  come  back,"  she  re 
marked  presently,  combing  a  glossy  ringlet 
round  her  finger  ;  "  de  ole  times  befo'  we 
went  up  Norf  and  massa  got  married  to  Miss 
Kose." 

"  Yes  ;  .and  oh,  mammy,  papa  has  said  I 
may  be  with  him  all  day  long,  from  the  time 
I'm  up  in  the  morning  and  dressed,  till  I 
have  to  go  to  bed  at  night.  Isn't  it  nice  ?" 

"  Berry  nice  plan,  honey  ;  'spect  it  keep 
bofe  you  and  massa  from  feelin'  mos'  poVful 
lonesome." 

"  Yes,"  Elsie  said  ;  "  and  I  like  it  ever  so 
much  for  a  little  while,  but  1  wouldn't  for 
anything  be  without  mamma  and  Horace  all 
the  time." 

Aunt  Chloe  was  still  busy  with  the  ring 
lets.  She  took  almost  as  much  pride  and  de 
light  in  their  beauty  and  abundance  as  the 
fond  father  himself,  and  was  apt  to  linger 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  5 

lovingly  over  her  task.  But  Elsie,  though 
wont  to  endure  with  exemplary  patience  and 
resignation  the  somewhat  tedious  and  trying 
ordeal  of  combing  and  curling,  never  com 
plaining,  though  now  and  then  compelled  to 
wince  when  the  comb  caught  in  a  tangle  and 
mammy  gave  a  pull  that  was  far  from  pleas 
ant,  would  sometimes  have  been  glad  to  have 
them  cut  off  would  papa  only  have  given  con 
sent. 

11  Dar,  honey,  dat  job  am  done,"  Aunt 
Chloe  said  at  length,  laying  aside  the  comb 
and  brush.  "  Now  fo'  de  dress  and  ribbons, 
an'  den  you  kin  go  back  to  massa." 

"I  want  to  just  as  soon  as  I  can,"  said 
the  little  girl. 

"  What  goin'  be  done  'bout  pourin'  de  tea 
to-night  ?"  asked  Aunt  Chloe  presently,  rather 
as  if  thinking  aloud  than  speaking  to  Elsie. 

"Why,"  queried  the  little  girl,  "won't 
Mrs.  Murray  do  it  as  usual  ?" 

"  Dunno,  chile,  she  hab  pow'ful  bad  head 
ache." 

"Has  she?  How  sorry  I  am  !  Oh,  I 
wonder  if  papa  would  let  me  try  !' ' 

"  'Spect  so,  honey,  ef  you  axes  him,"  said 
Aunt  Chloe,  giving  a  final  adjustment  to  the 
bows  of  the  sash  and  the  folds  of  the  dress. 


6  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  So  I  will,"  cried  the  little  girl,  skipping 
away.  But  the  next  instant,  coming  to  a 
sudden  standstill  and  turning  toward  her 
nurse  a  face  full  of  concern,  "  Mammy,"  she 
asked,  "  do  you  think  I  can  do  anything  to 
help  poor  Mrs.  Murray's  head  ?" 

"  No,  chile,  she  ain't  wantin'  nuffin  but 
to  be  let  'lone  till  de  sickness  am  gone." 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  her,"  sighed  Elsie, 
in  a  tenderly  pitying  tone  ;  "  I'm  very  sorry 
for  her,  but  hope  she  will  be  well  again  to 
morrow." 

Two  gentlemen  were  sitting  in  the  veran 
da.  Each  turned  a  smiling,  affectionate  look 
upon  the  little  girl  as  she  stepped  from  the 
open  doorway,  the  one  saying,  "  "Well,  daugh 
ter,"  the  other,  "  How  are  you  to-day,  my 
little  friend  ?" 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you,  Mr.  Tra villa. 
How  are  you,  sir?"  she  said,  putting  her 
small  white  hand  into  the  larger,  browner  one 
he  held  out  to  her. 

He  kept  it  for  a  minute  or  two  while  he 
chatted  with  her  about  the  cousins  who  had 
just  left  for  their  Northern  home,  after  spend 
ing  the  winter  as  guests  at  the  Oaks,  and  of 
her  mamma  and  baby  brother,  who  were  trav 
elling  to  Philadelphia  in  their  company. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  7 

"  I  dare  say  the  house  seems  very  quiet 
and  rather  lonely  ?"  he  remarked,  inquiringly. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  especially  in  my  rooms,"  she 
said,  glancing  round  at  her  father,  who  was 
silently  listening  to  their  talk  ;  "  but  papa  has 
promised  to  let  me  be  with  him  all  the  time 
during  the  day.  So  I  shall  not  mind  it  so 
much." 

' '  "Was  not  that  a  rather  rash  promise, 
Dinsmore?"  asked  Mr.  Travilla,  with  mock 
gravity.  "  Well,  if  you  tire  of  her  company 
at  any  time,  we  of  Ion  shall  be  delighted  to 
have  her  sent  to  us." 

"  Thank  you,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said,  with 
a  humorous  look  at  his  little  girl  ;  "I  shall 
certainly  send  her  to  you  directly  I  tire  of  her 
society." 

Elsie  glanced  searchingly  into  his  face  ; 
then  with  a  happy  laugh  ran  to  him,  and  put 
ting  her  arm  about  his  neck,  said,  "  I'm  not 
the  least  bit  frightened,  papa ;  not  at  all 
afraid  that  you  will  want  to  be  rid  of  me.  I 
hope  I'm  not  quite  so  silly  as  I  was  once  when 
Mr.  Travilla  made  me  think  you  might  give 
me  away  to  him." 

"  But  it  was  only  a  loan  I  was  asking  for 
this  time,  my  little  friend,"  was  Mr.  Tra 
villa'  s  pleasant  rejoinder. 


8  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

".Yes,  sir;  but  if  you  borrow  me  you'll 
have  to  borrow  papa  too  for  the  same  length 
of  time,"  Elsie  said,  with  a  merry  laugh. 
1  'Won't  he,  papa?" 

"  1  think  he  cannot  have  you  on  any  easier 
terms,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  answered  ;  "  for  I  cer 
tainly  cannot  spare  you  from  home  while  1 
stay  here  alone." 

"  A  very  satisfactory  arrangement  to  me, 
provided  we  are  allowed  to  keep  you  both  as 
long  as  we  wish,' '  Mr.  Travilla  said,  rising  as 
if  to  take  leave. 

But  an  urgent  invitation  to  stay  to  tea  in 
duced  him  to  resume  his  seat. 

Then  Elsie  preferred  her  request. 

It  was  granted  at  once,  her  father  saying, 
with  a  pleased  look,  "  I  should  like  to  see 
how  well  you  can  fill  your  mamma's  place  ; 
and  if  you  show  yourself  capable,  you  may  do 
so  always  in  her  absence,  if  you  wish." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  papa,"  she  cried  in  de 
light.  "I'll  do  my  very  best.  But  I'm  glad 
there  are  no  strangers  to  tea  to-night  to  see 
me  make  my  first  attempt.  You  are  a  guest, 
Mr.  Travilla,  but  not  a  stranger,"  she  added, 
with  a  bright,  winsome  look  up  at  him. 

"Thank  you,  my  dear,"  he  said;  "it 
Vrould  be  a  grief  of  heart  to  me  to  be  looked 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  9 

upon  in  that  light  by  the  little  girl  whose  af 
fection  I  value  so  highly." 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  say  so,  sir,"  she 
returned,  with  a  blush  and  a  smile,  "  and  I  be 
lieve  I'm  every  bit  as  fond  of  you  as  if  you 
were  my  uncle.  I  have  often  heard  papa  say 
you  and  he  were  like  brothers,  and  that  would 
make  you  my  uncle,  wouldn't  it  ?" 

"Yes,"  her  father  said;  "  and  so  good 
and  kind  an  uncle  would  be  something  to  be 
thankful  for,  wouldn't  it?  Ah,"  rising  and 
taking  her  hand,  "  there  is  the  tea-bell.  Now 
for  your  experiment.  "Will  you  walk  out  with 
us,  Travilla?" 

Both  gentlemen  watched  the  little  girl 
with  loving  interest  while  she  went  through 
the  duties  of  her  new  position  with  a  quiet 
grace  and  dignity  that  filled  her  father  with 
proud  delight,  and  increased  the  admiration 
already  felt  for  her  by  his  friend. 

On  leaving  the  table  they  returned  to  the 
veranda,  where  the  gentlemen  sat  conversing, 
with  Elsie  between  them. 

But  presently  Mr.  Dinsmore,  hearing 
that  some  one  from  the  quarter  wished  to 
speak  to  him,  left  the  other  two  alone  for  a 
while. 

"  Elsie,"  Mr.  Travilla  said  softly,  taking 


10  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

the  little  girl's  hand  in  his,  "  I  have  some 
thing  to  tell  you." 

Her  only  reply  was  an  inquiring  look,  and 
he  went  on  :  "  Something  which  I  am  sure 
you  will  be  glad  to  hear.  But  first  let  me  ask 
if  you  remember  a  talk  we  had  together  one 
morning  at  Roselands,  the  first  summer  after 
your  father  and  I  returned  from  Europe  ?" 

"  You  were  so  kind  as  to  talk  to  me  a 
good  many  times,  sir,"  Elsie  answered  doubt- 
fully. 

"  This  was  the  morning  after  your  fall 
from  the  piano-stool.  I  found  you  in  the 
garden  reading  your  Bible  and  crying  over 
it,"  he  said.  "  And  in  the  talk  that  followed 
you  expressed  great  concern  at  the  discovery 
that  I  had  no  love  for  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
A  text  you  quoted — '  If  any  man  love  not  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  let  him  be  anathema  mar- 
anatha ' — has  since  come  very  frequently  to  my 
recollection,  and  troubled  my  conscience  not  a 
little." 

Elsie  was  now  listening  with  intense  inter 
est.  Mr.  Travilla  paused  for  a  moment,  his 
face  expressing  deep  emotion  ;  then  resumed  : 
"  I  think  God's  Holy  Spirit  has  thorough 
ly  convinced  me  of  the  exceeding  sinfulness 
of  unbelief  ;  of  refusing  or  neglecting  His 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  11 

offered  salvation  through  the  atoning  blood  of 
His  dear  Son  ;  refusing  to  give  to  the  Lord 
Jesus  the  poor  little  return  of  the  best  love  of 
my  heart  for  all  He  has  done  and  suffered  in 
my  stead.  This  is  what  I  had  to  tell  you,  my 
dear  little  friend.  I  have  found  Jesus — have 
given  myself  unreservedly  to  Him,  to  be  His 
for  time  and  for  eternity,  and  I  have  been  led 
to  do  this  mainly  through  your  instrumental- 
ity." 

Tears  of  joy  filled  the  little  girl's  eyes. 
"  I  am  so  glad,  Mr.  Tra villa,  so  very  glad  !" 
she  exclaimed.  "It  is  the  best  news  I  could 
possibly  have  heard." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear,"  he  said,  with 
feeling.  "  I  can  now  understand  your  anxiety 
for  my  conversion,  for  I  myself  am  conscious 
of  a  yearning  desire  for  the  salvation  of  souls, 
especially  of  those  of  my  friends  and  acquaint 
ances." 

"  And  now  you  will  join  the  church, 
won't  you,  sir  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Elsie  ;  that  is  a  question 
of  duty  I  have  not  yet  decided.  There  are  so 
many  of  its  members  who  are  a  disgrace  to 
their  profession,  that  I  fear  I  might  prove  so 
also.  What  do  you  think  about  it  ?" 

"I'm  only  a  little  child,  not  half  so  wise 


12  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

as  you  are,  sir,"  she  answered,  with  unaffect 
ed  modesty. 

"  Still,  I  should  like  to  hear  your  opinion. " 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  and  silent 
thought  she  lifted  a  very  earnest  face  to  his. 
1 '  God  tells  us  that  He  is  able  to  keep  us  from 
falling.  And  don't  you  think,  Mr.  Travilla, 
that  it's  what  the  Bible  says  we  should  be 
guided  by,  and  not  what  somebody  else 
thinks  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  that  is  quite  true." 

"  '  To  the  law  and  to  the  testimony  :  if 
they  speak  not  according  to  this  word,  it  is  be 
cause  there  is  no  light  in  them,'  "  she  quoted. 

"  You  have  studied  the  Bible  so  much 
longer  than  I,"  he  said,  "  can  you  tell  me 
•where  to  look  for  its  directions  in  regard  to 
this  matter  ?  Does  it  really  give  any  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  oh,  yes  !  Is  not  joining  the 
church  confessing  Christ  before  men,  own 
ing  Him  as  our  Master,  our  Lord,  our  God  ?" 

He  nodded  assent. 

Elsie  called  to  a  servant  lounging  near, 
and  sent  him  for  her  Bible. 

11  Can  you  find  the  texts  you  want  without 
a  concordance  ?"  Mr.  Travilla  asked,  regard 
ing  her  with  interest  as  she  took  the  book  and 
opened  it. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  13 

' '  I  think  I  can, ' '  she  answered,  turning 
over  the  leaves  ;  "  I  have  read  them  so  often. 
Yes,  here— Matt.  10  :  32,  33— is  one  :  '  Who 
soever  therefore  shall  confess  me  before  men, 
him  will  I  confess  also  before  my  Father  which 
is  in  heaven.  But  whosoever  shall  deny  me 
before  men,  him  will  I  also  deny  before  my 
Father  which  is  in  heaven.'  ' 

She  gave  him  a  questioning,  pleading  look. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  in  a  subdued  tone,  "I 
think  that  is  to  the  point  ;  at  least,  if  we  grant 
that  joining  the  church  is  the  only  way  of 
confessing  Christ." 

"  Oh,  don't  you  see  ?  Don't  you  think, 
Mr.  Travilla,  that  if  we  love  Him  with  all 
our  hearts  we  will  want  to  confess  Him  every 
where  and  in  every  way  that  we  can  ?  Won't 
we  want  everybody  to  know  that  we  belong  to 
Him,  and  own  Him  as  our  Master,  our  Lord, 
our  King  ?"  she  exclaimed  with  eager  enthu 
siasm,  her  voice  taking  a  tone  of  earnest  en 
treaty. 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,"  he  said  ;  "  that 
would  be  the  natural  effect  of  such  love  as  we 
ought  to  feel — as  I  am  sure  you  do  feel  for 
Him." 

"  I  do  love  Him,  but  not  half  so  much  as 
I  ought,"  she  answered  with  a  sigh,  as  again 


14  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

she  turned  over  the  leaves  of  her  Bible.  "  I 
often  wonder  how  it  is  that  my  love  to  Him 
is  so  cold  compared  to  His  for  me.  It  is  as 
though  I  gave  Him  but  one  little  drop  in  re 
turn  for  a  mighty  ocean."  A  tear  fell  on  th« 
page  as  she  spoke. 

Then  again  she  read  :  "  '  The  gift  of  God 
is  eternal  life  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. ' 
'  The  word  is  nigh  thee,  even  in  thy  mouth 
and  in  thy  heart' — that  is,  the  word  of  faith 
which  we  preach  ;  '  that  if  thou  shalt  confess 
with  thy  mouth  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  shalt  be 
lieve  in  thine  heart  that  God  hath  aised  Him 
from  the  dead,  thou  shalt  be  saved.  For 
with  the  heart  man  believeth  unto  righteous 
ness  ;  and  with  the  mouth  confession  is  made 
unto  salvation.'  " 

Looking  up  at  him,  "  Oh,  Mr.  Tra villa," 
she  said,  "  shall  we  refuse  to  be  soldiers  at  all 
because  there  are  some  traitors  in  the  army  ? 
Isn't  there  all  the  more  need  of  brave,  true 
men  for  that  very  reason  ?  plenty  of  them  to 
fight  the  Lord's  battles  and  conquer  His  ene 
mies  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  cannot  one  do  that  without 
becoming  a  member  of  a  church  ?" 

"  Wouldn't  that  be  a  queer  kind  of  an 
army  where  there  was  no  concert  of  action, 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  15 

but  every  man  fought  separately  in  the  way 
that  seemed  best  to  himself  ?"  she  asked, 
with  modest  hesitation.  "  I've  read  about  the 
armies  and  battles  of  our  ^Revolution  and 
other  wars,  and  I  don't  remember  that  there 
was  ever  a  great  victory  except  where  a  good 
many  men  were  joined  under  one  leader." 

"  Yery  true,"  he  replied,  thoughtfully. 

"  And  if  you  love  Jesus,  Mr.  Travilla, 
how  can  you  help  wanting  to  obey  His  dying 
command,  l  Do  this  in  remembrance  of  me '? 
And  that  we  cannot  do  unless  we  are  members 
of  some  church." 

"  I  should  not  hesitate,  Elsie,  if  I  were 
but  sure  of  being  able  to  hold  out,  and  not 
disgrace  my  profession, "  he  said. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  returned  to  the  veranda  and 
sat  down  again  by  Elsie's  side,  just  in  time  to 
hear  his  friend's  last  sentence. 

"It  is  a  profession  of  religion  you  are 
speaking  of,  I  presume,"  he  said,  half  inquir 
ingly.  "  Well,  Travilla,  we  must  be  content 
to  take  one  step  at  a  time  as  we  follow  our 
Leader  ;  to  put  on  the  armor  and  go  into  bat 
tle  trusting  in  the  Captain  of  our  salvation  to 
lead  us  on  to  final  victory.  He  bids  us  '  fear 
not ;  I  will  help  thee. '  '  As  thy  days,  so  shall 
thy  strength  be. '  '  He  keepeth  the  feet  of 


16  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

His  saints.'  '  Who  shall  separate  us  from  the 
love  of  Christ  ?  .  .  .  We  are  more  than  con 
querors  through  Him  that  loved  us.  For  I 
am  persuaded  that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor 
angels,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor 
things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor  height, 
nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall  be 
able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God 
which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord,'  for  His 
chosen,  His  redeemed  ones  are  kept  by  the 
power  of  God  through  faith  unto  salvation. 
:For  '  He  is  able  to  keep  you  from  falling."* 


Cfjapte 


"This  we  commanded  you,  that  if  any  would  not  work,  neither 
should  he  eat."—  2  THESS.  3  :  10. 

MR.  TRA  VILLA  had  gone,  and  Mr.  Dins- 
more  and  his  little  daughter  sat  alone  upon 
the  veranda  ;  she  upon  his  knee,  his  arm 
about  her  waist.  Some  moments  had  passed 
without  a  word  spoken  by  either.  Elsie's 
eyes  were  downcast,  her  face  full  of  solemn 

j°y- 

"  What  is  my  little  girl  thinking  of  ?"  her 
father  asked  at  length. 

"  Oh,  papa,  I  am  so  glad,  so  happy,  so 
thankful  !"  she  said  ;  and  as  she  looked  up 
into  hig  face  he  saw  that  tears  were  glistening 
in  her  eyes. 

'  '  You  are  seldom  other  than  happy,  I 
think  and  hope,"  he  responded,  softly  strok 
ing  her  hair. 

"Yes,  very  seldom,  dear  papa.  How 
could  anybody  be  unhappy  with  so  many, 
many  blessings  to  be  thankful  for,  especially 


18  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

such  a  dear,  kind  father  to  love  and  take  care 
of  me  ?  But  I  am  happier  than  usual  to 
night  because  of  the  good  news  Mr.  Travilla 
has  told  me." 

"Ah,  what  was  that?" 

"  That  he  has  found  the  Saviour,  papa, 
and  that  it  was  partly  through  my  instrumen 
tality.  Isn't  it  strange  that  God  should  have 
so  honored  a  child  like  me  ?" 

"  Ah,  I  don't  know  that  it  is.  *  A  little 
child  shall  lead  them,'  the  Bible  says.  '  Out 
of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings  thou  hast 
perfected  praise.'  God  often  works  by  the 
feeblest  instrumentality,  that  thus  all  may 
see  that  the  glory  is  due  to  Him  alone.  I  re 
joice  with  you,  my  darling,  for  no  greater 
blessing  can  be  ours  than  that  of  being  per 
mitted  to  win  souls  to  Christ." 

"  Yes,  papa  ;  but  I  am  so  far  from  being 
what  I  ought,"  she  added,  with  unaffected 
humility,  "  that  I  wonder  I  have  not  proved 
a  stumbling-block  instead  of  a  help." 

"  Give  the  glory  to  God,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  papa,  I  know  it  all  belongs  to 
Him.  Oh,  don't  you  hope  Mr.  Travilla  will 
be  with  us  next  Sabbath  ?' ' 

"  At  the  Lord's  table  ?  I  do  indeed.  It 
is  a  precious  privilege  I  have  long  wished  to 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  10 

share  with  him  ;  a  means  of  grace  no  Chris 
tian  ought  ever  to  neglect ;  a  command  that 
as  the  last  and  dying  one  of  our  blessed  Mas 
ter  we  should  joyfully  obey  whenever  oppor 
tunity  is  afforded  us,  yet  with  the  utmost  en 
deavor  to  be  in  a  proper  frame  of  mind  ;  for 
*  he  that  eateth  and  drinketh  unworthily,  eateth 
and  drinketh  damnation  to  himself,  not  dis 
cerning  the  Lord's  body.'  It  is  a  dreadful  sin 
for  any  one  to  sit  down  to  that  table  without 
having  examined  himself  of  his  knowledge  to 
discern  the  Lord's  body,  of  his  faith  to  feed 
upon  Him,  repentance,  love,  and  new  obedi 
ence.  Let  us  both  pray  earnestly  for  grace 
and  help  to  partake  worthily,  repenting  of 
every  sin,  hating  and  forsaking  it,  and  devot 
ing  ourselves  anew  and  unreservedly  to  the 
Master's  service." 

"  I  will,  papa,"  she  said.  "  And  should 
we  not  meditate  on  Jesus  while  at  His  table  ?" 

"  Yes,  He  should  be  the  principal  theme 
of  our  thoughts  all  through  the  exercises  ;  we 
should  remember  Him — the  loveliness  of  His 
character,  the  life  He  led,  the  death  He  died, 
and  all  that  He  has  done  and  suffered  for  us.' ' 

They  fell  into  silent  thought  again.  Elsie 
was  the  first  to  speak.  "  I  wonder  where 
they  are  now,  papa  ?" 


•SO  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

' '  Who,  our  travellers  ?  Well,  we  cannot 
tell  precisely  ;  but  I  hope  it  will  not  be  very 
long  before  we  shall  hear  of  their  safe  arrival 
in  Philadelphia. " 

"  That  will  end  the  journey  for  mamma 
and  Horace,"  she  remarked;  "but  what  a 
long  one  the  others  will  still  have  before 
them  !  I  should  think  Annis  would  feel  as  if 
she  must  hurry  on  as  fast  as  possible  till  she 
gets  home  to  her  father  and  mother." 

"  Yery  possibly  she  may  ;  but  I  know  that 
Dr.  Landreth  and  Mildred  intend  resting  for 
some  days  in  Philadelphia.  So  Annis  will  be 
obliged  to  curb  her  impatience,  which  the 
sights  of  the  city  will  no  doubt  help  her  to 
do." 

At  that  instant  Elsie  gave  a  sudden  start, 
asking  in  an  awed,  tremulous  whisper,  "  Papa, 
what  is  that  ?' '  nestling  closer  to  him  as  she 
spoke. 

It  was  growing  dusk,  and  a  shadowy  fig 
ure,  dimly  seen  by  the  waning  light,  had  just 
emerged  from  the  shadow  of  a  large  tree  at 
some  distance  down  the  drive.  It  was  now 
stealing  cautiously  in  their  direction. 

"Don't  be  alarmed,  dearest,"  Mr.  Dins- 
more  said,  tightening  his  clasp  of  Elsie's  slight 
form  ;  "  I  presume  it  is  some  runaway  whom. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  21 

hunger  has  forced  to  show  himself. ' '  Then 
calling  to  the  figure  which  continued  to  ad 
vance  with  slow,  faltering  steps,  "  Halt  1 
Who  are  you,  and  what  is  your  business 
here  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I'se  Zeke,  massa,"  answered  a  trembling 
voice  ;  "  I'se  come  back  to  wuk,  an'  hopes 
you  won't  be  hawd  on  a  po'  niggah  wha's  re- 
pentin'  an'  pow'ful  sorry  fo'  takin'  a  holiday 
widout  yo'  leave,  sah. "  Mr.  Dinsmore  made 
no  reply,  and  the  man  drew  nearer.  ' '  I'se 
pow'ful  sorry,  massa,"  he  repeated,  pausing 
at  the  foot  of  the  veranda  steps,  and  standing 
there  in  a  cringing  attitude,  his  rags  flutter 
ing  in  the  evening  breeze,  the  remnant  of  a 
straw  hat  in  his  hand  ;  "  hope  you  won't  order 
me  no  floggin'." 

"  If  you  choose  to  go  back  where  you 
came  from,  I  shall  not  interfere  with  you, 
Zeke,"  returned  Mr.  Dinsmore,  coolly. 

'  I'se  done  tired  o'  de  swamp,  sah  ;  I'se 
like  to  starve  to  deff  dar  ;  hain't  tasted  not  de 
fust  mawsel  o'  victuals  fo'  de  las'  two  days." 

"  Oh,  poor  fellow,  how  hungry  he  must 
be  !"  exclaimed  Elsie.  "  Papa,  won't  you 
please  give  him  something  to  eat  ?" 

"  He  won't  work,  Elsie  ;  since  I  have 
known  him  he  has  never  earned  his  salt." 


22  MILDEED  AT  HONE. 

"But,  papa,"  she  pleaded,  "wouldn't  it 
be  wrong  and  cruel  to  let  him  starve  while  we 
have  plenty  and  to  spare  ?" 

"  "Would  it  ?  God's  command  is,  '  Six 
days  shalt  thou  labor  and  do  all  thy  work.' 
And  Paul  says  to  the  Thessalonians,  '  Even 
when  we  were  with  you,  this  we  commanded 
you,  that  if  any  would  not  work,  neither 
should  he  eat. '  ' 

Elsie  turned  to  the  suppliant.  "  Zeke, 
you  hear  what  the  Bible  says,  and  you  know 
we  must  all  obey  its  teachings." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Elsie,  dat's  true  nuff." 

"  Then  will  you  promise  papa  that  if  he 
feeds  you  now  you  will  go  to  work  industri 
ously  to-morrow,  if  God  spares  your  life  ?" 

"  Sho'n  I  will,  Miss  Elsie,  'cept  I  gets  de 
misery  in  de  back,  or  de  head,  or  somewheres 
else." 

"  He  can  always  find  a  hole  to  creep  out 
at,  Elsie,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said,  with  a  slight 
laugh  ;  "  those  miseries  never  elude  a  deter 
mined  search." 

"  But,  Zeke,"  said  Elsie,  "you  mustn't 
give  up  for  a  little  misery  ;  you  mustn't  try 
to  feel  one." 

"  Sho'  not  ;  but  dey  jes'  comes  dere- 
«elves,  little  missy." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  23 

"  And  some  people  give  them  every  en 
couragement,  while  others  work  on  in  spite  of 
them,' '  remarked  his  master,  with  some  stern 
ness  of  tone.  "  I  assure  you,  Zeke,  that  I 
have  myself  done  many  an  hour's  work  while 
enduring  a  racking  headache." 

"You,  sah?  T' ought  you  didn't  never 
do  no  wuk." 

' '  Just  because  you  never  saw  me  take 
hold  of  spade  or  hoe  ?  One  may  toil  far 
harder  with  the  mind,  Zeke.  "Well,  I  will 
give  you  one  more  trial.  Go  to  the  kitchen 
and  tell  Aunt  Dinah,  from  me,  that  she  is  to 
give  you  something  to  eat ;  and  to-morrow 
you  must  go  to  work  with  the  rest  in  the  field 
or — starve.  And  mind,  if  you  have  been 
without  food  as  long  as  you  say,  you  mustn't 
eat  nearly  so  much  as  you  want  to-night,  or 
you'll  kill  yourself. ' ' 

"  Tank  you,  sah,  I  'cepts  de  conditions  ;" 
and  with  a  low  bow,  first  to  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
then  to  Elsie,  he  turned  and  shambled  off  in 
the  direction  of  the  kitchen. 

"  Papa,  is  he  so  very  lazy  ?"   asked  Elsie. 

"  Very  ;  he  would  do  nothing  but  lie  in 
the  sun  if  allowed  to  follow  his  own  pleasure, 
though  he  is  young,  strong,  and  healthy.  He 
disappeared  some  days  ago,  but  I  permitted 


24  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

no  search  to  be  made  for  him,  and  should 
have  been  better  pleased  had  I  never  seen 
him  again. ' ' 

"  Papa,  perhaps  he  might  do  better  at 
some  other  work  ;  in  the  garden  or  about  the 
stables." 

"  Possibly.  I  think  I  shall  try  acting 
upon  your  suggestion." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  sir,"  she  said.  Then 
after  a  moment's  thoughtful  silence  :  "  Papay 
we  are  sitting  here  doing  nothing  at  all ;  yet 
I  know  you  must  think  it  right,  else  you 
wouldn't  do  it,  or  let  me." 

"  It  is  right  :  neither  body  nor  mind  was 
made  capable  of  incessant  exertion  ;  we  need 
intervals  of  rest,  and  can  accomplish  more  in 
the  end  by  taking  them  when  needed.  Jesus 
once  said  to  His  disciples,  '  Come  ye  your 
selves  apart  into  a  desert  place,  and  rest  a. 
while.'" 

"  Oh,  yes!  1  remember  it  now,"  she- 
said.  "  How  good  and  kind,  how  thoughtful 
for  others,  He  always  was  !  Papa,  I  do  so- 
want  to  be  like  Him." 

"I  think  you  are,  my  darling,"  he  an 
swered  in  moved  tones,  and  pressing  her  closer 
to  him  ;  "  like  Him  in  sufficient  measure  for 
those  who  know  you  in  your  daily  life  to  '  taka 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  25 

knowledge  of  you  that  you  have  been  with 
Jesus  '  and  learned  of  Him." 

"  Papa,  you  couldn't  say  sweeter  words  to 
me,"  she  whispered,  with  her  arm  about  his 
neck  ;  and  he  felt  a  tear  fall  on  his  cheek. 
"  And  you,  papa  ;  oh,  I  am  sure  no  one  could 
be  long  in  your  company  without  feeling  sure 
you  were  one  of  Jesus'  disciples." 

"  I  hope  that  is  so,"  he  said  with  feeling  ; 
"  for,  like  you,  I  most  earnestly  desire  to 
honor  Him  by  my  daily  walk  and  conversa 
tion,  and  to  be  always  and  everywhere  recog 
nized  as  His  servant." 

Elsie,  who  had  the  kindest  of  hearts, 
thought  of  Zeke  while  her  mammy  was  pre 
paring  her  for  bed  that  night,  and  again  while 
going  through  the  duties  of  her  morning 
toilet.  That  completed,  she  hastened  to  her 
father  with  a  request  that  Zeke  might  be  set 
to  work  in  her  own  little  garden. 

' '  Weeding  and  watering  it  would  be  very 
pleasant,  easy  work,  1  am  sure,"  she  added. 
"  1  like  to  do  it  myself ." 

"  1  doubt  if  Zeke  would  know  weeds  from 
flowers,"  her  father  said,  smiling  down  into 
the  eager  little  face. 

"  But  I  will  show  him,  papa,  if  I  may." 

"  Tou  may  do  just  as  you  please  about 


26  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

it,"  was  the  indulgent  reply.  "We  will 
have  our  reading  and  prayer  together,  and 
then  you  may  send  for  Zeke,  and  give  him  his 
instructions." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  papa  !"  she  exclaimed, 
with  as  sincere  joy  and  gratitude  as  though 
she  had  won  some  great  favor  for  herself. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  rang  for  a  servant,  and  sent 
a  message  to  Zeke.  He  was  directed  to  make 
himself  clean  and  decent,  and  come  to  the 
veranda  for  further  orders. 

He  obeyed.  Elsie  found  him  waiting 
there,  and  taking  him  to  her  garden  ex 
plained  minutely  what  she  wished  him  to  do, 
calling  his  attention  particularly  to  the  differ 
ence  between  the  leaves  of  the  weeds  that 
were  to  be  uprooted  and  those  of  some  an 
nuals  not  yet  in  bloom. 

He  promised  faithfully  to  attend  to  her 
directions  and  to  be  industrious. 

"Don't  you  think  it's  nicer,  easier  work 
than  what  you  would  have  had  to  do  in  the 
field  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Ya-as,  Miss  Elsie,"  he  drawled,  "but 
it's  stoopin'  all  de  same,  and  I'se  got  de  mis 
ery  in  de  back. ' ' 

She  gave  him  a  searching  look,  then  said 
reproachfully,  "  O  Zeke,  you  don't  look 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  27 

the  least  bit  sick,  and  I  can't  help  being  afraid 
you  are  really  lazy.  Remember  God  knows 
all  about  it,  and  is  very  much  displeased  with 
you,  if  you  are  not  speaking  the  truth." 

"  Sho  I'se  gwine  to  wuk  anyhow,  honey," 
he  answered,  with  a  sound  between  a  sigh 
and  a  groan,  as  he  bent  down  and  pulled  up  a 
weed. 

"  That's  right,"  she  said  pleasantly,  as  she 
turned  and  left  him. 

An  hour  later,  coming  out  to  see  what 
progress  he  was  making,  she  found  nearly  all 
her  beloved  annuals  plucked  up  by  the  roots, 
and  lying  withering  among  the  weeds  in  the 
scorching  sun. 

"  Oh,  how  could  you,  Zeke  !"  she  cried, 
her  eyes  filling  with  tears. 

"Why,  what's  de  mattah,  Miss  Elsie?" 
he  asked,  gaping  at  her  in  open-mouthed 
wonder,  not  unmixed  with  apprehension  and 
dismay. 

"  Matter  ?  You  have  been  pulling  up 
flowers  as  well  as  weeds.  That  is  one  you 
have  in  your  fingers  now." 

Zeke  dropped  it  as  if  it  had  been  a  hot 
coal,  and  stood  staring  at  it  where  it  lay  wilt 
ing  on  the  hot  ground.  "  Sho,  Miss  Elsie,  1 
didn't  go  fo'  to  do  no  sech  t'ing,"  he  said 


28  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

plaintively  ;    "  t'ought    I    was    doin'    'bout 
right.     Shall  I  plant  'em  agin  ?" 

"  No  ;  they  wouldn't  grow,"  she  said. 

"  Dis  niggah's  mighty  sorry,  Miss  Elsie. 
You  ain't  gwine  to  hab  him  sent  back  to  de 
wuk  in  de  field,  is  you  ?"  he  asked,  with 
humble  entreaty. 

"  I'm  afraid  that  is  all  you  are  fit  for, 
Zeke  ;  but  the  decision  rests  with  papa.  I 
will  go  and  speak  to  him  about  it.  Don't  try 
to  do  any  more  work  here,  lest  you  do  more 
mischief,"  she  said,  turning  toward  the  house. 

He  hurried  after  her.  ' '  Please  now,  Miss 
Elsie,  don'  go  for  to  'suade  massa  agin  dis  po' 
niggah." 

"  No,  I  shall  not,"  she  answered  kindly  ; 
"  perhaps  there  is  something  else  you  can  be 
set  at  about  the  house  or  grounds.  But, 
Zeke,"  turning  to  him  and  speaking  very 
earnestly,  "you  will  never  succeed  at  any 
thing  unless  you  strive  against  your  natural 
laziness,  and  try  to  do  your  best.  That  is 
what  God  bids  us  all  do.  He  says,  '  Whatso 
ever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy 
might.'  '  Whatsoever  ye  do,  do  it  heartily, 
as  to  the  Lord  and  not  unto  men. '  ' 

"  S'pect  dat's  so,  Miss  Elsie,"  he  drawled  ; 
"  but  de  Lawd  He  ain't  gwine  to  take  no  no- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  29 

tice  what  a  po'  niggah's  'bout  in  de  field  or  de 
garden." 

"  That's  a  great  mistake,  Zeke,"  she  said. 
*'  His  eye  is  always  on  you — on  everybody  ; 
and  He  is  pleased  with  us  if  He  sees  us  trying 
to  do  faithfully  the  work  He  has  given  us,  no 
matter  how  low  the  task  may  seem  to  us  or 
other  human  creatures,  and  displeased  if  we 
are  not  trying  to  do  it '  as  to  the  Lord  and  not 
unto  men.'  ' 

"  You  ain't  'fended  'bout  dose  po'  flowahs 
what  dis  po'  niggah  bin  pull  up  in  a  mistake, 
is  you  now,  Miss  Elsie  ?"  he  asked. 

Evidently  her  religious  teachings  had  made 
no  more  impression  than  the  idle  whistling  of 
the  wind. 

"No,  Zeke,  I  only  can't  trust  you  again," 
she  said,  turning  away  with  a  slight  sigh  over 
her  failure  to  win  him  from  his  inborn  indolence. 

She  hastened  to  her  father  with  the  story 
of  what  had  occurred. 

"  Ah  !  it  is  about  what  I  had  expected," 
he  said.  "  I  am  sorry  for  your  loss,  but  it 
can  soon  be  repaired.  Have  you  left  Zeke 
there  to  finish  the  work  of  destruction  ?" 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  told  him  to  stop  till  he  heard 
from  you. ' ' 

"  He  shall  go  back  to  the  field  at  once  ; 


30  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

there  is  no  propriety  in  giving  him  an  oppor 
tunity  to  do  further  mischief,"  Mr.  Dinsmore 
said,  with  a  decision  that  left  no  room  for  re 
monstrance  ;  and  summoning  a  servant  sent 
the  order. 

Elsie  heard  it  with  a  sigh.  "  What  now  ? 
Tou  are  not  wasting  pity  on  that  incorrigibly 
lazy  wretch  ?' '  her  father  asked,  drawing  her 
caressingly  to  his  knee. 

"  I  did  hope  to  do  him  some  good,  papa,'* 
she  sighed,  "and  I'm  disappointed  that  I 
can't." 

"  There  may  be  other  opportunities  in  the 
future,"  he  said.  "And  do  not  fret  about 
the  flowers.  You  are  welcome  to  claim  all  in 
my  gardens  and  conservatories." 

"  How  good  and  generous  you  always  are 
to  me,  you  dear  father  !"  she  said,  thanking 
him  with  a  hug  and  kiss,  while  her  face  grew 
bright  with  love  and  happiness.  ' '  No,  I 
won't  fret  ;  how  wicked  it  would  be  for  one 
who  has  so  many  blessings  !  But,  papa,  I 
can't  help  feeling  sorry  for  the  little  tender 
plants,  plucked  up  so  rudely  by  the  roots  and 
left  to  perish  in  the  broiling  sun.  They  were 
live  things,  and  it  seems  as  if  they  must 
have  felt  it  all,  and  suffered  almost  as  an  insect 
or  an  animal  would." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  31 

Her  father  smiled,  and  smoothed  her  hair 
with  softly  caressing  hand.  "My  little  girl 
has  a  very  tender  heart,  and  is  full  of  loving 
sympathy  for  all  living  things,"  he  said. 
"  Ah,  Travilla.  Glad  to  see  you  !"  as  at  that 
instant  that  gentleman  galloped  up  and  dis 
mounted. 

"  So  am  I,  sir,"  Elsie  said,  leaving  her 
father's  knee  to  run  with  outstretched  hand 
to  meet  and  welcome  their  guest. 

He  clasped  the  little  hand  in  his,  and  held 
it  for  a  moment,  while  he  bent  down  and 
kissed  the  sweet  lips  of  its  owner.  "  What 
news?"  Mr.  Dinsmore  asked,  when  he  had 
given  his  friend  a  seat  and  resumed  his  own. 

"  None  that  1  know  of,  except  that  I  have 
come  to  your  view  (which  is  my  mother's 
also)  of  the  subject  we  were  discussing  yester 
day,  and  have  decided  to  act  accordingly," 
Mr.  Travilla  answered,  with  a  rarely  sweet 
smile  directed  to  little  Elsie. 

"  Oh  !"  she  cried,  her  face  growing  radi 
ant,  "  1  am  so  glad,  so  very  glad  !" 

"  And  1,  too,"  said  her  father.  u  1  am 
sure  you  will  never  regret  having  come  out 
boldly  on  the  Lord's  side." 

"  No  ;  my  only  regret  will  be  that  I  de 
layed  so  long  enrolling  myself  among  His  pro- 


32  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

fessed  followers.  I  now  feel  an  ardent  desire 
to  be  known  and  recognized  as  His  servant, 
and  am  ready  to  go  forward,  trusting  implic 
itly  His  many  great  and  precious  promises  to 
help  me  all  my  journey  through." 

"  '  Being  confident  of  this  very  thing,  that 
He  which  hath  begun  a  good  work  in  you  will 
perform  it  until  the  day  of  Jesus  Christ '  ?" 
quoted  Mr.  Dinsmore  inquiringly. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  TraviUa,  "for  He  is 
able  to  keep  that  which  I  have  committed  unto 
Him  ;  able  to  keep  even  me  from  falling." 


AUNT   WEALTHY. 

DE.  LANDRETH  and  his  party  reached  Phil 
adelphia  in  due  season,  arriving  in  health  and 
safety,  having  met  with  no  accident  or  loss 
by  the  way. 

Mrs.  Dinsmore  found  her  father  and  the 
family  carriage  waiting  for  her  and  her  baby 
boy  at  the  depot. 

The  others  took  a  hack  and  drove  to  the 
Girard  House,  where  Miss  Stanhope,  who  had 
been  visiting  friends  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  city,  had  appointed  to  meet  them,  that 
they  and  she  might  journey  westward  in  com 
pany.  She  was  there  waiting  for  them  in  a 
private  parlor. 

The  meeting  was  a  joyful  one  to  the  two 
ladies,  who,  though  always  warmly  attached, 
had   now  been   separated   for   a   number  of 
years.     They  clasped  each  other  in  a  long, 
tender   embrace ;    then    Mildred    introduced 


34  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

her  husband,  and  exhibited  her  baby  with 
much  pride  and  delight  ;  Annis,  too,  for  she 
had  quite  grown  out  of  Aunt  Wealthy's  recol 
lection,  and  had  scarce  any  remembrance  of 
the  old  lady,  except  from  hearing  her  spoken 
of  by  the  other  members  of  the  family. 

The  travellers  were  weary  with  their  jour 
ney,  and  there  was  much  to  hear  and  tell ;  so 
the  remainder  of  that  day  was  given  up  to 
rest  and  talk,  a  part  of  the  latter  being  on  the 
arrangement  of  their  plans.  Mildred  pro 
posed  that  they  should  take  a  week  or  more 
for  rest  and  shopping,  then  turn  their  faces 
homeward. 

"  You  must  allow  some  time  for  sight-see 
ing,  my  dear,' '  said  her  husband.  "  It  would 
be  a  great  shame  to  carry  Annis  all  the  way 
out  to  Indiana  again  without  having  shown 
her  the  lions  of  Philadelphia." 

"  Oh,  certainly  she  must  see  them,"  said 
Mildred.  "  You  can  show  them  to  her  while 
Aunt  Wealthy  and  I  are  shopping." 

"  You  intend,  then,  to  shut  me  out  of 
that  business  ?  How  shall  I  know  that  you 
will  not  be  ruining  me  ?' ' 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mildred,  laughing,  "  you 
forget  how  rich  you  have  made  me.  I  shall 
have  no  occasion  to  ruin  anybody  but  myself." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  35 

"  And  as  for  me,"  remarked  Miss  Stan 
hope  drily,  "  I  have  my  own  purse." 

"  And  father  has  sent  money  to  buy  Ada's 
things,  mother's,  and  Fan's,  too,"  added 
Annis.  "  But,  Milly,  1  must  have  some 
share  in  the  shopping,  too.  I  expect  to  en 
joy  that  as  much  as  the  sight-seeing." 

Mildred  assured  her  she  should  have  as- 
much  as  she  wanted,  adding,  "  But  there  will 
be  a  good  deal  which  will  not  be  likely  to  in 
terest  you — napery  and  other  housekeeping: 
goods,  for  instance." 

' '  Your  share  of  those  things  will  interest 
me,  and  must  be  paid  for  from  my  purse," 
put  in  the  doctor. 

11  Quite  a  mistake,"  said  Miss  Stanhope  ^ 
' '  those  are  the  very  things  a  bride  or  her 
parents  are  expected  to  supply. ' ' 

"  But  Mildred  is  no  longer  a  bride.  Milly, 
my  dear,  I  want  you  to  help  me  to  select  a 
dress  for  the  bride  that  is  to  be." 

Mildred  looked  up  with  a  pleased  smile. 
"  Just  like  you,  Charlie  ;  always  thoughtful 
and  generous  !" 

Ada  Keith  was  the  coming  bride.  She 
and  Frank  Osborne  had  been  engaged  for 
some  weeks,  and  expected  to  marry  in  the  fall. 
This  news  had  increased  Annis's  desire  to  get 


36  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

home.  She  wanted,  she  said,  to  see  how  Mr. 
Osborne  and  Ada  acted,  and  whether  they 
looked  very  happy. 

"  And  just  to  think,"  she  added,  "  when 
they're  married  Fan  will  be  Miss  Keith,  and 
-we  two  will  be  the  young  ladies  of  the 
family." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !  How  old  may  you  be,  my 
little  maid  ?"  laughed  the  doctor. 

"  Most  thirteen,"  returned  the  little  girl, 
drawing  herself  up  with  an  air  of  importance. 

' '  A  very  young  young  lady,  most  decid 
edly,"  he  said  with  a  humorous  look,  bend 
ing  down  to  pinch  her  rosy  cheek  as  he  spoke. 

"I'm  growing  older  every  day,"  she  an 
swered  demurely,  edging  away  from  him. 
"  Father  told  me  a  year  ago  that  I'd  soon  be 
.a  woman." 

"  Quite  soon  enough,  dear  ;  don't  try  to 
hurry  matters,"  said  Aunt  Wealthy.  "  You 
can  never  be  a  little  girl  again. ' ' 

Mildred,  having  brought  a  competent  nurse 
with  her  thus  far  on  her  journey,  a  colored 
woman  who  would  serve  her  in  the  care  of 
little  Percy  while  they  remained  in  Philadel 
phia,  then  return  to  the  South  with  Mrs. 
Dinsmore,  was  able  to  give  herself  to  the 
shopping  without  distraction. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  31 

As  ehe  had  foreseen,  the  greater  part  of 
that  work  fell  to  her  and  Miss  Stanhope,  Dr. 
Landreth  and  Annis  accompanying  them  con 
stantly  for  a  day  or  two  only,  after  that  for  an. 
hour  or  so  when  something  was  to  be  pur 
chased  in  which  they  were  specially  interested. 

But  the  two  ladies  were  equal  to  the  de 
mand  upon  them  ;  Mildred  had  had  a  good 
deal  of  experience  in  shopping  in  the  last  few 
years,  and  Miss  Stanhope  was  a  veteran  at  the 
business — an  excellent  judge  of  qualities  and 
prices — yet  by  reason  of  her  absent-minded 
ness  needed  to  have  her  knowledge  supple 
mented  by  the  collected  wits  of  her  niece. 

The  old  lady's  odd  ways  and  speeches 
often  caused  no  little  amusement  to  all  within 
eight  and  hearing. 

One  day  she,  her  two  nieces,  and  Dr.  Lan- 
dreth  were  in  a  large,  handsomely  appointed 
dry-goods  store,  looking  at  silks  and  other 
costly  dress  fabrics. 

They  had  made  several  selections,  and 
while  the  doctor  and  Mildred  paid  for  and  saw 
the  goods  cut  off  and  put  up,  Miss  Stanhope 
moved  on  to  the  farther  end  of  the  room, 
where  she  saw,  as  she  thought,  an  open  door 
way  leading  into  another  of  similar  dimensions 
and  appearance. 


88  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

As  she  attempted  to  pass  through  the 
doorway  she  found  herself  confronted  by  a 
little  old  lady  rather  plainly  attired.  Miss 
Stanhope  nodded  pleasantly,  and  stepped  to 
the  right.  At  the  same  instant  her  vis-a-vis 
nodded  also,  and  stepped  to  her  left,  so  that 
they  were  still  in  each  other's  way.  Miss 
Stanhope  moved  quickly  to  the  other  side,  but 
the  stranger  doing  likewise,  they  did  not  suc 
ceed  in  passing.  Miss  Stanhope  stood  still, 
so  did  the  other,  and  for  an  instant  they  gazed 
steadily  into  each  other's  eyes. 

Then  Miss  Stanhope  spoke  in  a  gentle, 
ladylike,  yet  slightly  impatient  tone :  "I 
should  like  to  go  on  into  that  part  of  the 
store,  if  you  will  kindly  permit  me.  Take 
whichever  side  you  will ;  or,  if  you  please, 
stand  where  you  are  and  let  me  step  past 
you." 

She  attempted  to  do  so,  but  again  the 
stranger  moved  directly  in  front  of  her. 

"Madam,"  said  Miss  Stanhope,  uncon 
sciously  raising  her  voice  slightly,  "  1  will 
stand  still  if  you  will  be  good  enough  to  step 
out  of  my  way." 

There  was  neither  reply  nor  movement, 
but  Miss  Stanhope's  ear  caught  sounds  of 
suppressed  laughter  coming  from  various 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  39 

directions  in  her  rear,  and  a  clerk,  stepping  to 
her  side,  said,  with  an  unsuccessful  attempt 
to  preserve  gravity  of  countenance  and  steadi 
ness  of  tone,  "  Excuse  me,  madam,  but  you 
are  standing  before  a  mirror.  There  is  no 
doorway  there. ' ' 

"  Dear  me  !  so  1  am  !  What  an  old  sim 
pleton  not  to  recognize  my  own  face  !"  she 
exclaimed,  joining  good-naturedly  in  the 
laugh  her  mistake  had  raised. 

"  Very  good  evidence  that  you  are  lack 
ing  in  the  vanity  that  leads  some  to  a  fre 
quent  contemplation  of  their  own  features," 
remarked  the  proprietor  politely. 

11  Ah,  sir,  an  old  woman  like  me  has  small 
temptation  to  that,"  she  returned. 

"What  was  it,  Aunt.  Wealthy?  What 
are  you  all  laughing  at  ?"  asked  Annis,  join 
ing  her. 

"  Just  at  a  foolish  mistake  of  your  old 
auntie's,  my  dear,  taking  a  mirror  for  an  open 
doorway,  and  her  own  reflection  for  another 
woman  who  wouldn't  get  out  of  her  way." 

Annis  could  not  help  laughing  a  little, 
though  she  tried  not  to,  lest  she  should  hurt 
the  dear  old  lady's  feelings. 

"I'm  not  much  surprised,  auntie,"  she 
said,  gazing  into  the  mirror,  "  for  it  does 


40  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

seem  like  looking  into  another  store.  I  think 
I  might  have  made  that  mistake  myself  ;  but 
I  never  could  have  taken  you  for  anybody- 
else,  and  it's  odd  you  didn't  know  your 
self." 

"  Ah,  dearie,  self-knowledge  is  said  to  be 
the  most  rare  and  difficult  thing  in  the  world,' ' 
returned  Miss  Stanhope  pleasantly.  "  But. 
come,  I  see  the  doctor  and  Milly  are  waiting 
for  us. ' ' 

"  We  are  going  to  some  trimming  stores 
now,  Aunt  Wealthy, ' '  said  Mildred,  ' '  and 
you  will  be  able  to  match  your  zephyrs,  I 
hope." 

"  Yes  ;  I'll  have  my  samples  out  ready  to 
show,"  the  old  lady  answered,  taking  them 
from  a  small  satchel  which  she  carried  upon 
her  arm.  "  You  and  the  doctor  walk  on. 
Annis  and  I  will  follow.  Take  tight  hold  of 
my  arm,  dearie, ' '  she  added,  holding  it  out  as 
they  stepped  into  the  street,  "  lest  you  should 
get  separated  from  me  and  lost  in  the  crowd — 
the  streets  are  so  full,  and  everybody  seems. 
in  the  greatest  hurry. ' ' 

"  Yes,"  said  Annis,  doing  as  she  was  bid 
den,  "  so  different  from  Pleasant  Plains  ; 
there  one  can  hurry  along  or  not  as  one  likes 
without  being  jostled.  There  !  Milly  and 


MILDBED  AT  HOME.  41 

Brother  Charlie  have  gone  into  a  store,  and 
we  must  follow." 

They  hastened  in,  almost  out  of  breath 
from  their  rapid  walk.  Miss  Stanhope  gently 
shook  off  Annis's  hand,  stepped  to  a  counter, 
holding  out  her  samples  of  zephyr,  and  ad 
dressing  a  clerk,  remarked,  "  These  are  lovely 
colors  !" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl,  staring  ;  "  but  what 
of  it,  ma'am  ?" 

"My  aunt  wishes  to  match  them,"  said 
Annis  with  dignity,  resenting  the  half -insolent 
tone  of  the  girl. 

"  Oh  !  go  to  the  next  counter." 

They  moved  on,  Miss  Stanhope  smiling 
to  herself  at  her  own  mistake,  Annis  with 
cheeks  burning  with  indignation  at  the  girl's 
rude  stare  and  supercilious  tone. 

"  Don't  forget  what  you  want  this  time, 
auntie,"  she  whispered,  as  they  paused  before 
the  next  counter. 

"  No,  dearie,  but  you  mustn't  mind  your 
old  auntie's  blunders." 

This  time  they  were  waited  upon  by  a 
sweet-faced,  modest  maiden,  who  showed  her 
self  both  obliging  and  respectful. 

Miss  Stanhope  found  just  what  she  want 
ed.  But  Mildred  was  not  ready  to  go  yet, 


42  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

and  while  waiting  for  her  the  old  lady  and 
the  little  girl  amused  themselves  in  examining 
the  various  contents  of  a  showcase.  Annis- 
admired  a  necklace  of  amber  beads,  and  Aunt 
"Wealthy  bought  it  for  her ;  also  another 
nearly  like  it  for  Fan. 

"  Anything  else,  ma'am  ?' '  asked  the  sales 
woman,  as  she  wrapped  them  up. 

"Yes;  one  of  those  little  purses,"  said 
Miss  Stanhope  ;  "  it  is  just  what  I  want  for 
small  change  and  the  trunk  of  my  key,  which 
I  always  carry  in  my  pocket  when  travel- 
ling." 

With  a  slight  smile  the  saleswoman  handed 
out  several. 

Miss  Stanhope  made  her  selection,  and  the 
query,  "  Anything  else  ?"  was  repeated. 

"  Oh,  yes  !"  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  as 
with  sudden  recollection  ;  "  have  you  any  rem 
nants  ?" 

"  Remnants  ?  of  what  ?" 

"  Dress  goods." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  we  keep  nothing  but  trim 
mings  and  notions.'* 

Mildred  had  finished  her  purchases,  and 
coming  up  at  that  moment,  asked,  ' '  What  is 
it,  Aunt  Wealthy  ?" 

"Remnants.'" 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  43 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  of  course  you  will  want  a  sup 
ply  of  them,"  returned  Mildred,  with  a  good- 
humored,  slightly  amused  smile  ;  "  and  yet 
"what  use  can  you  make  of  them  now  ?  Even 
Annis  has  grown  too  large  for  a  remnant  to 
make  her  a  dress." 

"  But  there's  Percy,  and  Zillah's  boy, 
too,"  was  the  prompt  reply  ;  "  besides,  they 
«an  be  put  to  many  uses  about  a  house." 

"Mightn't  a  remnant  be  big  enough  to 
make  an  apron  for  a  lady  even  ?' '  asked 
Annis. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mildred  ;  "  and  as  I  know 
auntie  enjoys  buying  them,  we  will  look  for 
some." 

They  started  at  once  on  the  quest,  and 
Miss  Stanhope  was  quite  elated  and  triumph 
ant  on  finding,  in  two  different  stores,  two 
remnants  of  beautiful  lawn,  exactly  alike, 
which  together  would  make  an  ample  dress 
pattern  for  Annis,  besides  others  that  could 
be  utilized  for  aprons  for  her  and  Fan,  dresses 
for  the  baby  boys,  or  patchwork  for  quilts. 
Remnants  were  quite  a  hobby  with  the  old 
lady,  and  she  could  never  feel  quite  satisfied 
•with  the  results  of  a  shopping  expedition  that 
did  not  include  some  bargains  in  that  line. 

Returning  to  their  hotel  they  found  let- 


44  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

ters  from  the  Oaks  and  from  home  awaiting 
them. 

"Ah,  Milly,"  remarked  the  doctor,  with 
satisfaction,  as  he  glanced  over  his,  "  here  are 
our  measures.  Rupert  sends  them. ' ' 

"  Then  they  are  sure  to  be  right,"  she  re 
sponded. 

"Measures  for  what?"  inquired  Miss 
Stanhope. 

"  Wall  paper  and  carpets  for  our  new 
house  ;  it  is  ready  for  them." 

"  Oh,  how  nice  !"  cried  Annis,  clapping 
her  hands.  "  May  I  go  with  you  to  choose 
them,  Brother  Charlie  ?' ' 

1 '  We  will  be  pleased  to  have  your  com 
pany  and  the  benefit  of  your  taste,"  was  the 
gallant  rejoinder,  "  Aunt  Wealthy 's  also." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Miss  Stanhope,  ab 
sently.  "  I'm  glad  you're  so  near  being  done 
with  your  house,  and  I  think  it's  a  good  plan 
to  buy  your  paper  here  ;  but  I'm  afraid  you'll 
have  to  put  it  on  yourselves  ;  for  though 
I  remember  there  were  some  painterers  in 
Pleasant  Plains  when  1  was  there,  I  don't 
think  there  were  any  papers  at  all,  and 
everybody's  walls  were  whitewashed,  as  far  as 
1  can  recollect." 

"  But  you  know  that  was  some  years  ago.. 


MILD  BED  AT  HOME.  45 

auntie,"  said  Mildred,  "and  a  good  many 
luxuries  have  been  introduced  since  then, 
paper-hangers  among  the  rest. ' ' 

"  And  the  Keith  family  are  so  handy  that 
they  can  easily  do  such  work  for  themselves, 
if  necessary,"  laughed  Annis.  "  The  boys 
really  did  paper  our  house,  and  paint  it,  too. 
Do  you  see,  Milly,"  holding  up  a  letter, 
"  this  is  from  Elsie.  She  says  she  is  having  a 
lovely  time  all  alone  with  her  papa,  but  misses 
us  ever  so  much,  and  hopes  we  will  come 
back  to  spend  next  winter  at  the  Oaks. ' ' 

"  Tell  her,  when  you  write,  that  we  are 
greatly  obliged,  but  the  journey  is  quite  too 
long  to  take  twice  a  year,"  returned  Mildred 

gayly. 

"  And  we  couldn't  spend  every  winter 
away  from  father  and  mother,"  added  Annis. 
"  Oh,  how  glad  I  shall  be  to  get  home  to 
them,  and  Fan,  and  the  rest !  How  soon  can 
we  start  ?" 

"Time's  up  in  another  week, "  answered 
the  doctor,  "  and  I  judge,  by  the  rate  at 
which  we've  been  going  through  the  shopping 
and  sight-seeing,  that  we'll  be  ready  by  then.'* 


"  Gold  I  gold  !  gold  ! 
Bright  and  yellow,  hard  and  cold  1"— HOOD. 


A  BEAUTIFUL  spring  day  was  drawing  to  a 
close  as  two  persons — a  young  man  and  a 
maiden — seated  themselves  on  a  fallen  tree  on 
tlie  western  bank  of  the  St.  Joseph  River. 
They  had  strolled  a  long  distance  from  home, 
leaving  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  town  far 
behind.  They  were  a  trifle  weary  with  their 
walk,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  sit  here  and  rest 
in  the  cool  evening  air,  sweet  with  the  scent 
of  wildwood  flowers,  with  the  grass  green 
about  their  feet,  and  no  sound  to  break  the 
stillness  save  the  song  of  the  cricket,  the  gen 
tle  murmur  of  the  breeze  in  the  tree-tops,  and 
the  soft  ripple  of  the  water  flowing  swiftly 
onward,  so  bright  and  clear  that  it  reflected,  as 
in  a  mirror,  its  own  grassy  wooded  banks  and 
the  rich  purple,  gold,  and  amber  of  the  sunset 
clouds,  while  the  pebbly  bottom,  with  fishes 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  47 

great  and  small  darting  hither  and  thither, 
could  be  distinctly  seen. 

For  some  time  the  two  sat  there  silently, 
hand  in.  hand,  the  girl's  eyes  gazing  steadily 
down  into  the  water,  her  companion's  fixed 
upon  her  face  with  an  expression  of  ardent 
admiration  and  intense,  yearning  affection. 
It  was  a  noble  countenance,  at  this  moment 
thoughtful  and  grave,  even  to  sadness. 

"Ada,  my  love,"  he  said  at  length,  "it 
is  a  hard  thing  I  am  asking  of  you.  1  am 
ashamed  of  my  selfishness." 

"  No,  no  !  do  not  talk  so.  How  could  I 
bear  to  let  you  go  alone,  you  who  have  no  one 
in  the  wide  world  but  me  ?"  she  answered,  in 
a  low,  tremulous  tone,  her  eyes  still  upon  the 
water  ;  then  suddenly  turning  toward  him, 
her  face  flushing  with  enthusiasm,  her  eyes 
shining  through  tears,  "  But  it  is  not  you  that 
ask  it  of  me,  Frank  ;  no,  not  you,  but  One 
who  has  every  right ;  for  has  He  not  re 
deemed  me  with  His  own  precious  blood  ?  Is 
He  not  my  Creator,  Preserver,  and  bountiful 
Benefactor,  and  have  I  not  given  myself 
to  Him,  soul  and  body,  in  an  everlasting 
covenant  ?  And  shall  I  keep  back  any  part 
of  the  price  ?  Oh,  no,  no  !  Let  me  but 
make  sure  that  it  is  His  voice  I  hear  saying,. 


48  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

{  This  is  the  way  ;  walk  ye  in  it,'  and  I  am 
ready  to  leave  all  and  follow  Him,  though  it 
be  to  the  ends  of  the  earth." 

"My  darling,"  he  said  with  emotion, 
tightening  his  clasp  of  the  hand  he  held, 
"you  have  the  right  spirit;  you  view  this 
matter  in  the  right  light.  Yes,  we  are  His, 
both  of  us,  and  may  our  only  question  of  duty 
ever  be,  '  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to 
do  ? '  But  if  we  see  it  our  duty  to  go,  the 
sacrifice  I  make  will  be  as  nothing  to  yours, 
my  sweet  girl." 

"Yet  it  will  not  be  small,  Frank.  To 
leave  forever  one's  dear  native  land  is  no 
slight  thing,  especially  when  it  is  to  live 
among  heathen  people — low,  cruel,  degraded 
idolaters." 

"  That  is  true  ;  and  yet — oh,  is  there  not 
joy  in  the  thought  of  telling  the  old,  old  story 
of  Jesus  and  His  love  to  those  who  have  never 
heard  it,  and  who,  if  we  do  not  carry  it  to 
them,  may  never  hear  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  indeed  !  and  in  the  thought 
that  we  are  literally  obeying  His  command, 
'  Go  ye  into  all  the  world  and  preach  the 
Gospel  to  every  creature.'  And  how  very 
slight  will  be  our  suffering  and  self-denial 
compared  to  His  !' ' 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  49 

"  But,  Frank,  how  shall  we  determine  this 
question  ?  How  know  whether  we  are  truly- 
called  to  this  great  work  ?  Ah,  it  does  not 
seem  possible  that  1  should  ever  be  deemed 
worthy  of  such  honor  !' ' 

"We  will  continue  to  make  it  a  subject  of 
constant,  earnest  prayer,"  he  said,  "asking 
to  be  guided  to  a  right  decision  ;  also  we  will 
open  our  hearts  to  your  parents,  and  consult 
them.  If  they  refuse  consent  to  your  going, 
we  will  see  in  that  an  indication  that  the 
Lord's  will  is  not  that  we  should  go.  Labor 
ers  are  needed  here  also,  and  it  may  be  that 
He  will  appoint  us  our  work  in  this  part  of 
His  vineyard. ' ' 

"  Yes,"  she  said  ;  "  1  could  never  feel  it 
right  to  go  if  father  and  mother  should  oppose 
it.  Yet  I  am  sure  they  will  not,  if  they  see 
reason  to  believe  we  are  called  of  the  Master  ; 
for  ever  since  I  can  remember  their  most 
ardent  wish  for  their  children  has  been  that 
they  might  be  entirely  devoted  to  His  ser 
vice.  ' ' 

At  that  very  moment  the  honored  parents- 
of  whom  she  spoke,  sitting  side  by  side  in  the 
vine-covered  porch  of  their  home,  resting 
after  the  labors  of  the  day,  were  talking  of 
their  children,  and  rejoicing  in  the  well- 


50  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

founded  belief  that  most,  if  not  all,  of  them 
had  already  given  themselves  to  that  blessed 
service. 

They  spoke  of  Mildred  and  Annis,  the 
eldest  and  youngest,  now  on  the  way  home 
after  their  winter  at  the  Oaks  ;  of  Rupert, 
their  eldest  son,  a  prosperous  and  highly  re 
spected  man  of  business  ;  Cyril,  absent  at  col 
lege  ;  Zillah,  with  her  husband  and  babe,  liv 
ing  just  across  the  street  ;  of  Ada  and  her  be 
trothed  ;  and,  lastly,  of  the  only  two  just  then 
in  sight — Don  and  Fan — down  in  the  garden, 
seated  on  a  bench  under  a  spreading  tree,  the 
lad  whittling,  his  sister  watching  him,  with 
hands  lying  idly  in  her  lap. 

There  was  languor  in  the  droop  of  her 
slender  figure  ;  the  eyes  that  rested  now  upon 
Don's  face,  now  on  his  work,  were  unnatu 
rally  large  and  bright,  and  though  a  rich  color 
glowed  in  her  cheeks,  her  features  were  thin 
and  sharp. 

"  Stuart,"  said  Mrs.  Keith,  in  low,  slightly 
tremulous  tones,  gazing  fixedly  at  Fan  as  she 
spoke,  "  I  am  growing  uneasy  about  that 
child  ;  she  is  not  well.  She  scarcely  com 
plains,  but  is  losing  flesh  and  strength  very 
fast  of  late." 

"  Only  because  she  is  growing  so  rapidly, 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  51 

I  think,  Marcia,"  he  said  ;  "  see  what  a  brill 
iant  color  she  has. ' ' 

"  Not  the  bloom  of  health,  1  fear,"  sighed 
the  mother.  "  I  am  very  glad  Dr.  Landreth 
will  be  here  soon.  1  hope  he  may  be  able  to 
do  something  for  her. " 

"  I  hope  so,  indeed.  Perhaps  it  is  change 
of  climate  and  scene  she  needs.  Probably  it 
would  have  been  better  had  she  gone  with  the 
others  last  fall. " 

"  I  don't  know  ;  it  is  too  late  to  think  of 
it  now,  but  if  Charlie  recommends  a  trip,  we 
must  manage  to  give  it  to  her. " 

"  Certainly  ;  and  in  that  case  you  will 
have  to  go  too,  for  I  doubt  if  anything  could 
induce  Fan  to  leave  her  mother." 

"  No  ;  what  a  dear,  affectionate  child  she- 
is  !  And  how  she  and  Don  cling  to  each 
other." 

In  the  pause  that  followed  that  last  remark 
Fan's  low,  clear  tones  came  distinctly  to  their 
ears. 

"  Ah,  now  I  see  what  you  are  making, 
Don  ;  a  spoon,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  it'll  be  very  useful  in  the  journey 
across  the  plains. ' ' 

"  Whose  journey  ?" 

"  Mine,"  he  said  ;  then  sang  gayly  : 


52  MILDRED  AT  HOME, 

"  O  California  !  oh,  that's  the  land  for  me ! 
I'm  bound  for  Sacramento, 
With  the  washbowl  on  my  knee.' ' 

"  That's  the  tune  of  '  O  Susannah,'  "  she 
•said,  as  he  ceased  ;  "  but  where  did  you  get 
those  words  ?" 

"  Haven't  you  heard  it  before  ?"  he  asked. 
*'  They've  been  singing  it  all  over  town  ;  tho 
gold  fever's  raging,  and  a  lot  of  fellows  are 
talking  of  going  off  across  the  plains  to  the 
California  diggings.  If  they  do,  I'd  like  to 
make  one  of  the  party." 

The  parents,  silently  listening,  exchanged 
.glances  of  mingled  surprise  and  concern, 
while  Fan  exclaimed,  "  O  Don,  you  can't  be 
in  earnest  ?" 

"You'd  better  believe  I  am,"  laughed 
the  lad.  ' '  Why,  it  would  be  the  greatest  fun 
in  the  world,  I  think,  to  go  and  dig  gold." 

"Exceedingly  hard  work,  my  boy,"  Mr. 
Keith  said,  raising  his  voice  that  it  might 
reach  the  lad. 

Don  started  and  turned  his  head.  He  had 
not  thought  of  any  one  but  Fan  hearing  his 
talk. 

"  But  we  wouldn't  mind  working  very- 
hard  indeed  for  a  little  while  to  make  a  fort 
une,  father,"  he  answered  in  a  lively  tone, 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  5$ 

springing  up  and  advancing  to  the  steps  of  the 
porch,  Fan  following,  and  seating  herself  upon 
them. 

"  Ah,  but  who  can  insure  the  making  of 
the  fortune  ?"  asked  Mr.  Keith  gravely. 
"  Where  one  will  succeed,  Don,  probably 
hundreds  will  fail  and  die  of  the  great  hard 
ships  to  be  encountered  in  the  search  for 
gold — the  exhausting  toil,  scanty  fare,  and  ex 
posure  to  the  inclemencies  of  the  weather.  It 
cannot  fail  to  be  a  rough  and  toilsome  life,, 
full  of  danger  and  temptation,  too  ;  for  the- 
desperadoes  and  outlaws  from  all  parts  of  the 
country,  if  not  of  the  world,  are  always  among 
the  first  to  rush  to  such  places  ;  and  even  men 
who  behaved  respectably  at  home  often  throw 
off  all  restraint  there,  and  act  like  savages. ' ' 

"  Think,  too,  of  the  dangers  to  be  encoun 
tered  by  the  way,  Don,"  said  his  mother  ; 
"  a  trackless  wilderness  to  cross,  supplies  of 
food  and  water  perhaps  giving  out,  to  say 
nothing  of  perils  from  wild  beasts  and  hostile 
Indians. ' ' 

"  Oh,  mother,"  he  said,  "if  you'd  ever 
been  a  boy  you'd  know  that  danger  has  great 
attractions  sometimes." 

11  But  oh,  Don,"  exclaimed  Fan,  "just 
think  what  mother,  and  I,  and  all  of  us- 


54  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

would  be  Buffering  from  anxiety  on  your 
account  !" 

11  Ah,  but  you'd  feel  paid  for  it  all  when 
you  saw  me  come  home  with  my  pockets  full 
of  gold!" 

"  Gold  far  too  dearly  bought,  if  you  came 
back  to  us  a  rough,  hardened  man,  instead  of 
the  dear  boy  you  are  now,' '  said  his  mother. 

"  I've  no  notion  of  ever  becoming  a  rough, 
.mother  mine,"  returned  the  lad  in  a  half- 
playful  tone  ;  "  and  what  is  virtue  worth  that 
•can't  stand  temptation  ?" 

"  Not  much,  my  son,"  said  his  father 
gravely  ;  "  but  what  mockery  to  pray,  '  Lead 
us  not  into  temptation,'  and  then  rush  need 
lessly  into  it.  But  let  the  subject  drop,  for  I 
am  quite  resolved  never  to  give  my  consent 
to  so  wild  a  project." 

The  boy's  face  clouded,  but,  accustomed 
to  obedience,  he  ventured  no  reply.  "  Here, 
Fan,  I'll  give  this  to  you,"  he  said,  handing 
her  the  now  finished  spoon. 

"  Thank  you  ;  it  is  very  pretty,"  she  re 
turned,  regarding  it  admiringly. 

"  Fan,  dear,  I  think  the  dew  is  beginning 
to  fall,"  said  Mrs.  Keith,  rising  ;  "  come  in  ; 
come  both  of  you.  "We  will  adjourn  to  the 
sitting-room." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  55 

They  did  so,  and  were  there  presently- 
joined  by  Frank  and  Ada,  who  came  in  hand 
in  hand,  their  faces  full  of  a  strange  mixture 
of  joy  and  sorrow.  Mrs.  Keith  sat  in  a  low 
rocking-chair,  softly  passing  her  hand  over 
Fan's  hair  and  cheek,  the  young  girl  having 
.seated  herself  on  a  stool  at  her  mother's  side, 
and  laid  her  head  in  her  lap. 

They,  as  well  as  Mr.  Keith  and  Don, 
seemed  to  be  silently  musing  as  the  other  two 
entered.  But  all  four  looked  up  at  the  sound 
of  their  footsteps,  and  Mrs.  Keith,  noticing 
the  unusual  expression  of  their  countenances, 
asked  a  little  anxiously,  "  What  is  it,  Ada, 
my  child  ?" 

Ada  opened  her  lips  to  reply,  but  no  sound 
came  from  them.  Hastily  withdrawing  her 
hand  from  Frank's  she  sprang  forward,  and 
knelt  beside  her  sister. 

"  Mother,  oh,  mother,  how  can  I  ever 
leave  you  !"  she  exclaimed,  tears  coursing 
down  her  cheeks. 

Mrs,  Keith  was  much  surprised,  knowing 
of  no  adequate  cause  for  such  emotion,  espe 
cially  in  one  usually  so  calm  and  undemon 
strative  as  Ada. 

11  Dear  child, "  she  said,  caressing  her,  "  we 
•will  hope  never  to  be  too  far  apart  for  fre- 


56  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

quent  intercourse.     Frank's  present  charge  is. 
but  a  few  miles  distant." 

"  But,  mother,  he  thinks  he  is  called  to 
foreign  missions, ' '  Ada  returned  in  trembling 
tones  ;  "  can  you  let  me  go  ?  Can  you  give 
me  to  that  work  ?" 

The  query,  so  sudden,  so  unexpected,  sent 
a  keen  pang  to  the  tender  mother's  heart. 
With  a  silent  caress  she  drew  her  loved  child 
closer,  and  they  mingled  their  tears  together. 

"  What— what  is  this  I  hear,  Frank  ?'r 
asked  Mr.  Keith  huskily,  starting  up  and 
drawing  nearer  the  little  group  ;  for  Frank 
had  followed  Ada,  and  stood  looking  down 
upon  her,  his  features  working  with  emotion. 

With  an  effort  he  controlled  it,  and  in  a 
few  words  gave  the  desired  information. 
"  He  had  for  some  time  felt  an  increasing  in-. 
terest  in  the  foreign  work,  and  desire  to  give 
himself  to  it  should  it  be  made  plain  that  he 
was  called  of  God  to  that  part  of  the  field." 

"  Oh  no,  no  !"  cried  Fan,  putting  her  arms 
about  her  sister's  neck,  "  we  can't  spare  you. 
Why  mayn't  Frank  work  for  the  Master  here 
as  well  as  there  ?  Laborers  are  needed  in 
both  places." 

"Very  true,"  said  Frank,  "  and  I  trust 
our  earnest  desire  is  to  be  guided  to  that  part 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  57 

of  the  vineyard  where  the  Master  would  have 
as." 

"It  shall  be  my  prayer  that  you  may, " 
said  the  mother  with  emotion,  drawing  Ada's 
head  to  a  resting-place  on  her  breast  as  she 
spoke  ;  "  and  dearly,  dearly  as  I  love  my 
child,  hard  as  it  will  be  to  part  with  her,  1 
cannot  hesitate  for  a  moment  if  the  Master 
calls  her  to  go." 

"  No,  nor  can  I,"  Mr.  Keith  said,  sighing 
and  bending  down  to  stroke  Ada's  hair  in 
tender,  fatherly  fashion. 


Jfiftf), 


"  Home  is  the  resort 

Of  love,  of  joy,  of  peace,  and  plenty,  where, 
Supporting  and  supported,  polish'd  friends 
And  dear  relations  mingle  into  bliss." 

— THOMSON'S  Statont. 

THE  sweetest  of  May  mornings  ;  the  sun 
shines  brightly  in  a  sky  of  heavenly  bluer 
wherein  float  soft,  fleecy  clouds  of  snowy 
whiteness,  casting  faint  shadows  now  here, 
now  there,  over  the  landscape.  The  forest 
trees  have  donned  their  spring  robes  of  tender 
green,  and  at  their  feet  the  earth  is  carpeted 
with  grass  spangled  with  myriads  of  lovely 
wild  flowers  of  varied  hues  ;  the  air  is  redo 
lent  of  their  sweet  breath  and  vocal  with  the 
songs  of  the  birds  in  the  tree-tops  and  all  the 
pleasant  sounds  of  rural  life.  Everything, 
eeems  so  bright,  so  fresh,  and  new  that  Annis, 
as  the  stage  rolls  rapidly  onward,  bringing  her 
every  moment  nearer  home,  is  almost  wild 
with  delight,  while  the  older  members  of  the- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  5? 

party,  if  less  demonstrative,  are  scarcely  les? 
happy. 

They  counted  the  miles,  as  those  at  home 
were  counting  the  hours  and  the  minutes. 
The  journey  from  Philadelphia  to  Northern 
Indiana  was  far  more  tedious  and  wearisome 
in  those  days  than  it  is  now,  and  they  were 
tired  enough  of  travel  to  be  glad  to  reach 
their  journey's  end  ;  rest  would  be  delightful ; 
but  it  was  the  thought  of  home  and  dear  ones 
that  constituted  their  chief  joy. 

The  stage  was  due  in  Pleasant  Plains  just 
at  noon,  and  to-day,  having  no  hinderance 
from  bad  weather  or  bad  roads,  arrived  punc 
tually  to  the  minute.  The  mail  was  dropped 
at  the  post-office,  a  passenger  at  the  hotel. 

"  To  Lawyer  Keith's  next  ?"  queried  the 
•driver,  bending  down  from  his  high  seat  to 
bestow  a  roguish  look  and  smile  upon  the  im 
patient  Annis. 

"Yes,"  Dr.  Landreth  said,  "we  all  be 
long  there." 

The  stage  was  sweeping  on  again  before 
he  had  half  finished  his  sentence. 

In  another  minute  it  drew  up  at  the  gate, 
and  oh  the  greetings,  the  embraces  that  fol 
lowed  !  the  happy  laughter,  the  looks  of  love, 
the  tears  of  joy  !  for  to  the  younger  ones  the 


60  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

separation  had  seemed  very  long,  as,  in 
deed,  so  far  as  Miss  Stanhope  was  concerned,, 
it  really  had  been. 

The  mutual  affection  of  herself  and  niece 
was  like  that  of  mother  and  daughter,  and 
they  had  not  seen  each  other' s  faces  for  more 
than  ten  years.  All  the  family  loved  the  old 
lady,  and  she  came  in  for  her  full  share  of  the. 
joyous  welcome.  Zillah  was  there  with  her 
husband  and  babe,  and  Ada  had  her  betrothed 
by  her  side. 

They  sat  down  to  dinner  together,  a  large 
and  happy  party,  most  of  them  more  disposed 
for  conversation,  however,  than  for  doing 
justice  to  the  fare  upon  which  Celestia  Ann 
had  expended  much  thought  and  skill. 

She  was  still  with  Mrs.  Keith,  devotedly 
attached  to  her  and  the  whole  family,  and  no- 
one  had  bestowed  a  heartier  hug  upon  Annis,, 
Mildred,  or  even  Aunt  Wealthy,  than  thia 
somewhat  forward  but  very  warm-hearted 
maiden. 

'*'  You  don't  none  o'  ye  eat  half  as  much 
as  you'd  orter,  considerin'  what  a  sight  o-' 
trouble  I  took  a-gettin'  up  this  dinner,"  she 
grumbled,  as  she  waited  on  the  table.  "  I 
remembered  all  your  likings — Miss  Milly's, 
and  Miss  Stanhope's,  and  Annis' s — and  dona 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  61 

my  best  to  f oiler  'em  all.  I  broiled  the 
chickings,  and  smashed  the  'taters,  and  took  a 
sight  o'  pains  with  the  pies  and  puddin's  ;  but 
you  don't  none  o'  you  seem  to  'predate  it, 
'thout  it's  Don  there,  for  here  I'm  a-carryinr 
-out  yer  plates  half  full  every  time." 

"  That's  because  we  have  been  so  bounti 
fully  helped,"  said  Mildred.  "  Father  has 
heaped  my  plate  with  enough  for  two  or  three 
meals.  So  you  mustn't  feel  hurt,  Celestia 
Ann,  for  1  assure  you  I  find  your  cookery 
delicious." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Annis.  "  I  haven't 
tasted  as  good  since  we  left  the  Oaks." 

A  chorus  of  complimentary  remarks  fol 
lowed  from  the  rest  of  the  company,  and 
Celestia  Ann's  wounded  vanity  was  appeased. 

"  Fan,"  Dr.  Landreth  remarked,  looking 
across  the  table  at  her,  "  I  think  you  are  the 
worst  delinquent  of  all  of  us  ;  you  have  eaten 
scarcely  anything,  and  I  suspect  it  is  no  new 
thing,  for  you  have  grown  thin  since  I  saw 
you  last." 

"  Father  says  it's  because  I'm  growing  so 
fast,'"  Fan  said,  blushing  with  embarrass 
ment,  as  she  felt  that  all  eyes  were  turned 
upon  her.  "It's  spring-time,  too,  and  that  is 
apt  to  make  one  lose  appetite  and  strength." 


62  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  I  dare  say  you  need  change,"  remarked 
Annis  wisely.  "  You  see  how  well  and 
strong  1  am  ;  don't  you  wish  now  you'd  gone 
South  with  us  ?" 

"No;  I  wouldn't  have  missed  the  nice 
time  I've  had  with  mother  for  anything,"  re 
turned  Fan,  her  eyes  seeking  her  mother's 
face  with  a  look  of  fond  affection. 

Mrs.  Keith's  answering  smile  was  very 
sweet.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "Fan  and  I  have 
had  a  very  pleasant,  happy  time  together.  And 
now,  with  all  our  dear  ones  restored,"  glanc 
ing  fondly  from  Annis  to  Mildred  and  Aunt 
Wealthy,  "  we  shall  be  happier  than  ever." 

"Home's  a  good  place,"  remarked  Don, 
pushing  away  his  plate,  and  settling  himself 
back  in  his  chair  with  the  air  of  one  whose 
appetite  is  fully  satisfied,  ' '  but  I,  for  one, 
would  like  to  see  something  of  the  world." 

"  Time  enough  yet,  my  boy,"  remarked 
Dr.  Landreth  laughingly  ;  "  you  may  well 
feel  thankful  that  you  are  not  forced  out  into 
it  now,  before  you  are  fully  prepared  for  the 
battle  of  life." 

Don  looked  slightly  vexed  and  impatient. 
"  Yes,' '  he  said,  "  that's  the  way  you  all  talk  ; 
it's  wait,  wait,  wait,  instead  of  '  strike  while 
the  iron's  hot.'  " 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  63 

"  What  iron  ?"  inquired  Mildred,  with  a 
look  half  of  interest,  half  of  amusement. 

"  I  want  to  go  to  California  and  dig  gold," 
blurted  out  the  boy  ;  "  but  father  and  mother 
won't  hear  of  it,  though  there's  a  large  party 
starting  from  here  next  week." 

"  Oh,  Don,  what  an  idea  !"  exclaimed 
Mildred.  "  I'm  glad  you  can't  win  con 
sent." 

"  I  too,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Don,  if  you 
knew  what  the  life  is  you  would  not  want  to 
try  it.  1  have  had  experience  of  it,  you  re 
member.  " 

"  Who  are  going  from  here  ?"  asked  Mil 
dred. 

Quite  a  list  of  names  was  given  in  reply, 
including  those  of  several  of  her  familiar  ac 
quaintance. 

"How  will  they  go?"  she  asked,  a  look 
of  grave  concern  coming  over  her  face. 

"Across  the  plains,"  answered  Rupert, 
"  in  wagons  drawn  by  ox-teams.  It  can't  fail 
to  be  a  slow  and  toilsome  journey. ' ' 

"And  a  dangerous  one  as  well,"  added 
his  mother,  with  a  deprecating  look  at  Don. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  lad,  "  but  I'm 
fairly  spoiling  for  a  taste  of  that,  mother,"  he 
added,  with  a  laugh. 


64  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Ah,  my  boy,  I 
wish  you  knew  when  you  were  well  off." 

They  left  the  table,  and  nocked  into  the 
parlor  ;  but  Mrs.  Keith  drew  Dr.  Landreth 
aside,  and  whispered  in  his  sympathizing  ear 
her  anxiety  in  regard  to  Fan.  She  described 
every  symptom  without  reserve,  then  asked, 
with  a  look  of  deep  solicitude,  "  "What  do  you 
think  of  the  case  ?" 

"  You  must  allow  me  a  little  time  to  study 
it,  mother,"  he  said;  "  but  I  trust  it  will 
prove  nothing  serious.  She  must  have  rest,  a 
tonic,  a  daily  walk  of  such  length  as  she  can 
take  without  undue  fatigue,  and  frequent 
drives.  Those  I  can  give  her  as  I  visit  my 
country  patients.' ' 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said.  "  I  have  been 
very  impatient  for  your  return  on  the  dear 
child's  account." 

"  What  is  that  you  are  talking  of, 
mother  ?"  Mildred  asked,  joining  them. 

"  Of  Fan,  Milly  ;  she  hasn't  seemed  well 
for  some  time,  and  I  have  been  consulting  the 
doctor  about  her. ' ' 

Mildred's  eyes  filled.  "  My  darling  little 
sister  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  hope  it  is  noth 
ing  serious  ?"  She  turned  an  eager,  inquiring 
look  upon  her  husband. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  6i» 

"  We  will  hope  not,  Milly,"  he  said 
cheerfully.  "  As  your  father  says,  she  is 
growing  fast,  and,  besides,  tl\is  warm  spring 
weather  is  apt  to  cause  a  feeling  of  languor. 
I  trust  that  with  tender  care  and  watchfulness 
we  may  be  able  to  help  her  to  grow  into 
strong,  healthful  womanhood." 

Both  mother  and  sister  looked  relieved, 
and  presently  they  rejoined  the  others. 

Frank  Osborne  was  just  taking  leave.  He 
must  return  to  the  duties  of  his  charge,  and 
might  not  see  them  again  for  several  days. 

Ada  left  the  room  with  her  betrothed  foi 
a  few  last  words. 

When  she  entered  the  parlor  again  Aunt 
Wealthy,  making  room  for  her  on  the  sofa  by 
her  side,  asked,  "  Are  you  to  be  settled  near 
Pleasant  Plains,  dear  2"  adding,  "  I  hope  so, 
for  it  would  be  very  hard  for  you  to  go  far 
from  father  and  mother,  brothers  and  sisters, 
and  for  them  to  have  you  do  so." 

Ada  could  not  answer  for  a  moment,  and 
when  she  found  her  voice  it  was  tremulous 
with  emotion. 

"  We  do  not  know  yet,  Aunt  Wealthy," 
she  said.  "  It  will  be  hard  to  leave  home  and 
dear  ones,  but  we  are  ready  and  willing  to  go 
wherever  the  Lord  may  send  us." 


66  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  Ada,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Mil 
dred.  "  Surely,  Frank  has  no  thought  of 
seeking  a  foreign  field  ?" 

"  Can't  you  give  me  up  if  the  Master 
calls  me  away,  Milly  ?"  asked  Ada,  taking 
her  sister's  hand  and  pressing  it  fondly  in 
hers. 

"  In  that  case  I  would  not  dare  hold  you 
back  if  I  could  ;  His  claim  is  far  stronger  than 
mine,"  Mildred  said,  with  emotion. 

Then  the  whole  story  came  out,  and  the 
matter  was  discussed  in  a  family  council. 

But  they  could  go  no  farther  than  the  ex 
pression  of  their  opinions  and  wishes.  Frank 
had  already  offered  himself  to  the  Board  of 
Foreign  Missions,  and  his  going  depended 
upon  their  acceptance  or  rejection. 

"  I  hope  they'll  say,  *  No,  we  think  you 
<jan  find  enough  to  do  where  you  are,'  "  said 
Annis  playfully,  but  with  eyes  full  of  tears, 
putting  her  arms  around  Ada's  neck  and  lay 
ing  her  cheek  to  hers  as  she  spoke.  "  I'  m 
sure  I  don't  know  what  we  should  ever  do 
without  you  !"  she  went  on.  "I  don't  like 
to  have  you  go  away  even  as  far  as  the  coun 
try  church  where  Frank  preaches  now." 

"  "Well,  dear,  we  won't  borrow  trouble  ; 
*  sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof, '  ' 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  67 

Ada  said,  holding  her  close,  and  fondly  kissing 
the  rosy  cheek. 

11  l  And  as  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength 
be,'"  added  Mrs.  Keith.  "Our  blessed 
Master  will  never  lay  upon  any  of  us  a  heavier 
burden  than  He  gives  us  strength  to  bear." 

"  N"o,"  said  Rupert.  "  And  now — to  turn 
to  a  pleasanter  theme  than  the  possibility  of 
Josing  Ada — Mildred,  don't  you  want  to  go 
and  take  a  look  at  your  new  house,  you,  and 
the  doctor,  and  anybody  else  that  cares  to  see 
it?" 

"  Oh,  is  it  done  ?"  cried  Annis,  suddenly 
forgetting  her  grief  and  loosening  her  hold  of 
Ada  to  clap  her  hands  with  delight. 

"  Yes,  all  but  the  papering  and  painting," 
replied  Rupert. 

"  I  move  we  all  go  in  a  body,"  said  Mil 
dred  gayly. 

"  So  many  of  us  !  People  would  stare," 
objected  Fan,  with  her  usual  timidity. 

"  What  matter  if  they  should  ?"  laughed 
Mildred.  "  But  it  is  only  a  step,  and  there 
are  very  few  neighbors  near  enough  to  watch 
our  proceedings." 

"  And  why  shouldn't  we  be  independent 
and  do  as  we  please  ?"  remarked  Don  loftily. 
"  I  vote  in  the  affirmative.  Come,  let's  go." 


68  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

(C  A  dozen  of  us,  without  counting  the 
babies,"  murmured  Fan,  with  a  little  sigh. 
But  she  tried  on  the  dainty  white  muslin  sun- 
bonnet  her  mother  handed  her,  took  Don's 
offered  arm,  and  went  with  the  rest. 

As  they  passed  from  room  to  room  Mil 
dred's  eyes  shone  with  pleasure. 

The  plan  of  the  house  was  the  joint  work 
of  herself  and  husband,  embodying  their  ideas 
in  regard  to  comfort  and  convenience.  Rupert 
had  been  left  in  charge  of  the  work  during 
their  absence,  and  had  acquitted  himself  of 
the  trust  to  their  entire  satisfaction. 

Both  returned  him  warm  thanks,  Mildred 
saying  again  and  again,  "  I  am  delighted, 
E,u  ;  you  have  not  forgotten  or  neglected  the 
least  of  our  wishes." 

"I  am  very  glad  it  pleases  you,  Milly," 
he  said,  with  a  gratified  look.  "  It  has  been 
a  labor  of  love  to  attend  to  it  for  you.'' 

"It  is  quite  done  except  the  work  of  the 
papers  and  painterers,  is  it  not  ?' '  queried 
Aunt  Wealthy. 

"  Yes,' '  said  the  doctor  ;  "  and  we  will  set 
the  painters  at  work  to-morrow  ;  the  paperers 
as  soon  as  our  boxes  of  goods  arrive. " 


apter  Si*% 

"  We  all  do  fade  as  a  leaf."— ISA.  64  : 6. 

DR.  LANDBETH  and  Mildred  gladly  availed 
themselves  of  a  pressing  invitation  to  take  up 
their  old  quarters  at  her  father's  until  such 
time  as  their  own  house  should  be  entirely 
ready  for  occupancy. 

There  was  general  rejoicing  in  the  family 
that  that  time  was  not  yet  ;  they  were  so  glad 
to  have  Mildred  with  them  once  more.  Nor 
did  she  regret  the  necessity  for  continuing  a 
little  longer  a  member  of  her  father's  house 
hold,  especially  considering  that  this  was 
Ada's  last  summer  at  home. 

There  was  always  a  community  of  inter 
ests  among  them,  a  sharing  of  each  other's 
joys  and  sorrows,  a  bearing  of  each  other's 
burdens,  and  so  all  were  very  busy,  now  help 
ing  Mildred  prepare  bedding  and  napery,' 
curtains,  etc.,  and  now  Ada  with  her  trous 
seau,  and  everything  that  could  be  thought  of 


70  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

to  add  to  her  comfort  in  the  foreign  land  to 
which  she  was  going  ;  for  in  due  time  Frank 
Osborne  received  word  that  he  had  been  ac 
cepted  by  the  Board. 

Many  tears  were  shed  over  that  news,  yet 
not  one  of  those  who  loved  her  so  dearly 
would  have  held  Ada  back  from  the  service 
to  which  the  Master  had  called  her.  She  was 
His  far  more  than  theirs,  and  they  were  His, 
and  would  gladly  give  to  Him  of  their  best 
and  dearest. 

Others  had  given  up  their  loved  ones  to  go 
in  search  of  gold — the  wealth  of  this  world, 
that  perishes  with  the  using — parting  from 
them  with  almost  breaking  hearts  ;  and  should 
they  shrink  from  a  like  sacrifice  for  Him  who 
had  bought  them  with  His  own  precious 
blood  ?  and  to  send  the  glad  news  of  His  sal 
vation  to  those  perishing  for  lack  of  knowl 
edge  ? 

The  train  of  emigrants  for  California  had 
left  at  the  set  time,  their  relatives  and  friends 
— in  some  cases  wives  and  children — parting 
from  them  as  from  those  who  were  going  al 
most  out  of  the  world,  and  might  never  be 
seen  again. 

A  journey  to  California  is  accounted  no 
great  thing  in  these  days,  when  one  may  travel 


MILDRED  AT  HOME  71 

all  the  way  by  rail  ;  but  in  those  times,  when 
it  was  by  ox-teams  and  wagons,  across  thou 
sands  of  miles  of  trackless  wilderness,  over 
which  wild  beasts  and  savage  Indians  ranged, 
it  was  a  perilous  undertaking. 

So  they  who  went  and  they  who  stayed 
behind  parted  as  those  who  had  but  slight  hope 
of  ever  meeting  again  in  this  lower  world. 

Nearly  the  whole  town  gathered  to  see  the 
train  of  wagons  set  forth,  and  even  Don 
Keith,  as  he  witnessed  the  final  leave-takings, 
the  clinging  embraces,  the  tearful,  sobbing 
adieus,  was  not  more  than  half  sorry  that  he 
was  not  going  along. 

Fan  drew  the  acknowledgment  from  him 
later  in  the  day,  when  she  overheard  him 
softly  singing  to  himself  : 

"  '  I  jumped  aboard  the  old  ox-team, 
And  cracked  my  whip  so  free  ; 
And  every  time  I  thought  of  home, 
I  wished  it  wasn't  me.'  " 

"  Yes,  that  would  have  been  the  way  with 
you,  Don,  I'm  sure,"  Fan  said  ;  "  so  be  wise 
in  time,  and  don' t  try  it,  even  if  father  should 
consent." 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  turning  toward 
her  with  a  roguish  twinkle  in  his  eye ; 


72  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

1 '  I  think  another  part  of  the  song  suits  me 
better : 

"  '  We'll  dig  the  mountains  down, 

We'll  drain  the  rivers  dry  ; 
A  million  of  the  rocks  bring  home, 
So,  ladies,  don't  you  cry.'  " 

"  That's  easier  said  than  done,  Don,"  Fan 
remarked,  with  a  grave,  half -sad  look.  "  Oh, 
brother  dear,  don't  let  the  love  of  gold  get 
possession  of  you  !" 

"  I  don't  love  it  for  itself,  Fan — I  hope  I 
never  shall — but  for  what  it  can  do,  what  it 
can  buy." 

"  It  cannot  buy  the  best  things,"  she  said, 
looking  at  him  with  dewy  eyes  ;  "it  cannot 
urtiy  heaven,  it  cannot  buy  love,  or  health,  or 
\  eedom  from  pain  ;  no,  nor  a  clear  conscience 
*r  quiet  mind.  It  will  seem  of  small  account 
when  one  comes  to  die. " 

"Don't  talk  of  dying,"  he  said  a  little 
uneasily  ;  "we  needn't  think  much  about  that 
yet — you  and  I,  who  are  both  so  young." 

"  But  a  great  many  die  young,  Don,  even 
younger  than  we  are  to-day." 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  as  she 
spoke,  and  looked  into  his  eyes  with  tender 
sadness. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  73 

As  he  noted  the  words,  the  look,  and  the 
extreme  attenuation  of  the  little  hand,  a  sharp 
pang  shot  through  his  heart.  Could  it  be  that 
Fan,  his  darling  sister,  was  going  to  die  ? 
The  thought  had  never  struck  him  before. 
He  knew  that  she  was  not  strong,  that  the 
doctor  was  prescribing  for  her  and  taking  her 
out  driving  every  day,  and  he  had  perceived 
that  the  older  members  of  the  family,  partic 
ularly  his  mother,  were  troubled  about  her, 
but  had  thought  it  was  only  permanent  loss  of 
health  they  feared. 

But  the  idea  of  death  was  too  painful  to  be 
encouraged,  and  he  put  it  hastily  from  him. 
How  could  he  ever  do  without  Fan  ?  There 
was  less  than  two  years  between  them,  and 
they  had  always  been  inseparable.  No,  he 
would  not  allow  himself  to  think  of  the  possi 
bility  that  she  was  about  to  pass  away  from 
him  to  "  that  bourne  whence  no  traveller  re 
turns.  ' ' 

He  was  glad  that  Annis  joined  them  at 
that  moment  in  mirthful  mood. 

"  What's  so  funny,  Ann  ?"  he  asked,  see 
ing  a  merry  twinkle  in  her  eye. 

"  Oh,  just  some  of  Aunt  Wealthy' s  odd  mis 
takes.  She  was  talking  about  that  first  winter 
we  spent  here,  when  she  was  with  us,  you  re- 


74  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

member ;  she  said,  '  The  weather  was  very 
cold  ;  many's  the  time  1'  ve  had  hard  work 
to  get  my  hands  up,  my  hair  was  so  cold.* 
Then  she  was  telling  something  her  doctor  in 
Lansdale  told  her  about  a  very  dirty  family 
he  was  called  to  see.  A  child  had  the  croup, 
and  he  made  them  put  it  into  a  hot  bath  ;  he 
was  still  there  the  next  morning,  and  saw  them 
getting  breakfast ;  and  telling  about  it  Aunt 
Wealthy  said,  '  They  used  the  water  to  make 
the  coffee. that  the  child  was  bathed  in.'  ' 

"  The  doctor  stayed  and  took  breakfast 
with  them,  I  suppose  ?"  said  Don  dryly. 

"  Not  he,"  laughed  Annis  ;  "  he  said  he 
was  very  hungry,  and  they  were  kindly  urgent 
with  him  to  stay  and  eat,  but  he  preferred  tak 
ing  a  long,  cold  ride  before  breaking  his  fast." 

"I  admire  his  self-denial,"  remarked 
Don,  with  gravity.  "  Anything  else  of  inter 
est  from  Aunt  Wealthy  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Annis;  "she  was  speaking 
of  some  religious  book  she  had  been  reading, 
and  said  she  had  bought  it  from  a  portcollier. 
And  yesterday,  when  I  complained  that  I 
hated  to  darn  my  stockings,  she  said,  '  Oh, 
my  dear,  always  attend  to  that ;  a  stocking  in 
a  hole,  or  indeed  a  glove  either,  is  a  sure  sign 
of  a  sloven.'  " 


MILDRED  AT  ROME.  75 

"  Then,"  said  Don  gravely,  "  I  trust  you 
will  be  careful  never  to  drop  yours  into 
holes." 

"  Don't  let  us  make  game  of  dear,  kind 
old  Aunt  Wealthy,"  Fan  said,  in  a  gentle, 
deprecating  tone. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  for  the  world  !"  cried  Annis, 
"  but  one  can't  help  laughing  at  her  funny 
mistakes  ;  and  indeed  she  is  as  ready  to  do  so 
as  any  one  else. " 

"Yes;  and  it's  very  nice  in  her,"  said 
Don. 

For  a  while  after  that  Don  watched  Fan 
closely,  but  noticing  that  she  was  always 
cheerful,  bright,  and  interested  in  all  that  was 
going  on,  he  dismissed  his  fears  with  the  con 
soling  idea  that  there  could  not  be  anything 
serious  amiss  with  her. 

By  midsummer  Mildred  was  fairly  settled 
in  her  own  house,  and  work  for  Ada  was  be 
ing  pushed  forward  with  energy  and  dis 
patch. 

The  wedding — a  very  quiet  affair — took 
place  in  September.  A  few  days  later  the 
youthful  pair  bade  a  long  farewell  to  relatives 
and  friends,  and  started  for  New  York, 
whence  they  were  to  sail,  early  in  October, 
for  China. 


76  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

The  parting  was  a  sore  trial  to  all,  and  no 
one  seemed  to  feel  it  more  than  Fan. 

"  Ada  !  Ada  !"  she  sobbed,  clinging  about 
her  sister's  neck,  "  I  shall  never,  never  see 
you  again  in  this  world  !' ' 

"Don't  say  that,  darling,"  responded 
Ada  in  tones  tremulous  with  emotion.  "  I  am 
not  going  out  of  the  world,  and  probably  we 
may  be  back  again  in  a  few  years  on  a  visit. ' ' 

"But  I  shall  not  be  here,"  murmured 
Fan.  "  Something  tells  me  1  am  going  on  a 
longer  journey  than  yours." 

"  I  hope  not,"  Ada  said,  scarcely  able  to 
speak.  "  You  are  depressed  now  because 
you  are  not  well,  but  I  trust  you  will  soon 
grow  strong  again,  and  live  many  years  to  be 
a  comfort  and  help  to  father  and  mother.  I 
used  to  plan  to  be  the  one  to  stay  at  home  and 
take  care  of  them  in  their  old  age,  but  now,  1 
think,  that  is  to  be  your  sweet  task. " 

"I'd  love  to  do  it,"  Fan  said;  "I'd 
rather  do  that  than  anything  else,  if  it  should 
please  God  to  make  me  well  ar.d  strong 
again. ' ' 

"And  if  not,  dear,"  Ada  said,  drawing 
her  into  a  closer  embrace,  "  He  will  give  you 
strength  for  whatever  He  has  in  store  for  you, 
whether  it  be  a  life  of  invalidism,  or  an  early 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  77 

call  to  that  blessed  land  where  '  the  inhabitants 
shall  not  say,  I  am  sick. '  ' 

"  Yes,"  was  the  whispered  response ; 
"  and  sometimes  I  feel  that  it  is  very  sweet 
just  to  leave  it  all  with  Him,  and  have  no 
choice  of  my  own." 

"  Thank  God  for  that,  my  darling  little 
sister  !"  Ada  exclaimed  with  emotion.  "  I 
have  no  fear  for  you  now,  for  I  am  sure  you 
are  ready  to  go  if  it  shall  please  the  Master  to 
call  you  to  Himself." 

This  little  talk  took  place  early  in  the  day 
of  Ada's  departure,  she  having  stolen  into 
Fan's  room  as  soon  as  she  was  dressed,  to  ask 
how  the  invalid  had  passed  the  night. 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  mother's 
entrance  on  the  same  errand. 

Embracing  both  as  they  stood  together, 
"  My  two  dear  daughters,"  she  said.  Then 
to  Fan,  "  You  are  up  and  dressed  early  for  an 
ailing  one,  my  child." 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  couldn't  lie  in  bed  this 
morning,  the  last  that  we  shall  have  Ada  with 
us,"  Fan  answered  with  a  sob,  and  holding 
her  sister  in  a  tighter  clasp. 

"The  last  for  a  time,"  Mrs.  Keith  re 
turned  cheerfully,  though  the  tears  trembled 
in  her  eyes.  "  Missionaries  come  home  some- 


78  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

times  on  a  visit,  you  know,  and  we  will  look 
forward  to  that. ' ' 

"  And  besides  that,  we  know  that  we  shall 
meet  in  the  Father's  house  on  high  ;  meet 
never  to  part  again,"  whispered  Ada,  press 
ing  her  lips  to  her  mother's  cheek,  then  to 
Fan's. 

"  But  to  be  forever  with  the  Lord,' '  added 
Mrs.  Keith.  "  Now,  Fan  dear,  sit  down  in 
your  easy-chair  till  the  call  to  breakfast,  and 
after  this  try  to  follow  your  Brother  Charlie'& 
advice — taking  a  good  rest  in  the  morning, 
even  if  you  have  to  breakfast  in  bed." 

Unconsciously  to  herself  as  well  as  to 
others  the  excitement  of  the  preparations 
for  Ada's  wedding  and  life  in  a  foreign  land 
had  been  giving  Fan  a  fictitious  strength, 
which  immediately  on  her  sister's  departure 
deserted  her,  and  left  her  prostrate  upon  her 
bed. 

Mother  and  the  remaining  sisters  nursed 
her  with  the  tenderest  care,  and  after  a  time 
ehe  rallied  so  far  as  to  be  about  the  house 
again  and  drive  out  occasionally  in  pleasant 
weather ;  but  the  improvement  was  only 
temporary,  and  before  the  winter  was  over  it 
became  apparent  to  all  that  Fan  was  passing 
away  to  the  better  land. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  79 

To  all  but  Don  and  Annie.  He  refused  to 
believe  it,  and  she,  with  the  hopefulness  of 
childhood,  was  always  "  sure  dear  darling 
Fan  would  soon  be  better." 

For  many  weeks  the  mother  shrank  from 
having  her  fears  confirmed  ;  often,  as  she 
noted  the  gravity  and  sadness  of  the  doctor's 
face,  the  question  trembled  upon  her  tongue, 
but  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  speak  it ; 
but  one  day,  seeing,  as  she  thought,  a  deeper 
shade  of  anxiety  upon  his  face  than  ever  be 
fore,  she  followed  him  from  the  room. 

"  Charlie,"  she  said,  in  faltering  accents, 
"  I  must  know  the  truth  though  my  heart 
break.  Tell  me,  must  my  child  die  ?" 

"  Dear  mother,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand 
in  his  and  speaking  with  strong  emotion,  "  I 
wish  I  could  give  you  hope,  but  there  i& 
none  ;  she  may  linger  a  month  or  two,  but 
not  longer." 

"  Oh,  how  shall  I  ever  tell  her  !"  sobbed 
the  mother  ;  "  her,  my  timid  little  Fan,  who 
has  always  been  afraid  to  venture  among 
strangers,  always  clung  so  tenaciously  to  home 
and  mother  !"  , 

"  I  think  she  knows  it,"  he  said,  deeply 
moved.  "  I  have  seen  it  again  and  again  in 
the  look  she  has  given  me.  And  I  doubt  not 


80  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

God  is  fulfilling  to  her  the  promise,  '  As  thy 
days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be.'  ' 

"  May  the  Lord  forgive  my  unbelief  !"  she 
said.  "  I  know  that  He  is  ever  faithful  to 
His  promises. " 

Returning  to  the  sick-room  she  found  Fan 
lying  with  closed  eyes,  a  very  sweet  and 
peaceful  expression  on  her  face. 

Bending  over  her  she  kissed  the  sweet 
lips,  and  a  hot  tear  fell  on  the  child's  cheek. 

Her  blue  eyes  opened  wide,  and  her  arm 
crept  round  her  mother's  neck. 

"  Dearest  mother,  don't  cry,"  she  whis 
pered.  "  I  am  glad  to  go  and  be  with  Jesus. 
You  know  it  says,  '  He  shall  gather  the  lambs 
with  His  arm  and  carry  them  in  His  bosom.' 
I  shall  never  be  afraid  or  timid  lying  there. 
Oh,  He  will  love  me  and  take  care  of  me, 
and  some  day  bring  you  there  too,  and 
father,  and  all  my  dear  ones  ;  and  oh,  Juw 
happy  we  shall  be  !' ' 

"  Yes,  love,"  the  mother  said,  "  yours  is 
a  blessed  lot — to  be  taken  so  soon  from  the 
sins  and  sorrows  of  earth.  *  Thine  eyes  shall 
see  the  King  in  His  beauty  :  they  shall  behold 
the  land  that  is  very  far  off.  .  .  .  Thine 
eyes  shall  see  Jerusalem  a  quiet  habitation,  a 
tabernacle  that  shall  not  be  taken  down  ;  not 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  81 

one  of  the  stakes  thereof  shall  ever  be  re 
moved,  neither  shall  any  of  the  cords  thereof 
be  broken.  But  there  the  glorious  Lord  will 
be  unto  us  a  place  of  broad  rivers  and  streams 
....  And  the  inhabitant  shall  not  say,  I 
am  sick  :  the  people  that  dwell  therein  shall 
be  forgiven  their  iniquity.'  " 

"  Such  sweet  words,"  said  Fan.  "  Oh,  I 
am  glad  Ada  has  gone  to  tell  the  poor  heathen 
of  this  dear  Saviour  !  How  could  I  bear  to 
die  if  1  did  not  know  of  Him  and  His  pre 
cious  blood  that  cleanseth  from  all  sin  !" 

"  Dearest  child,  do  you  feel  quite  willing 
to  go  ?"  Mrs.  Keith  asked,  softly  stroking  her 
hair  and  gazing  upon  her  with  tear-dimmed 
eyes. 

"  Yes,  mother,  1  do  now,  though  at  first 
it  seemed  very  sad,  very  hard  to  leave  you  all 
to  go  and  lie  down  all  alone  in  the  dark  grave. 
But  I  don't  think  of  that  now  ;  I  think  of 
being  with  Christ  in  glory,  near  Him  and  like 
Him.  Oh,  mother,  how  happy  I  shall  be  !" 

The  door  opened,  and  Mildred  came  softly 
in.  She  bent  over  Fan,  her  eyes  full  of  tears, 
her  features  working  with  emotion.  She  had 
just  learned  from  her  husband  what  he  had 
told  her  mother. 

"  Dear  Milly,"   Fan  said,  putting  an  arm 


S2  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

about  her  neck,  her  lips  to  her  cheek,  "  has 
Brother  Charlie  told  you  ?" 

Mildred  nodded,  unable  to  speak. 

"  Don't  fret,"  Fan  said  tenderly  ;  "  1  am 
not  sorry,  though  1  was  at  first.  What  is 
dying  but  going  home  ?  Oh,  don't  you  re 
member  how  John  tells  us  in  the  Revelation 
about  the  great  multitude  that  stood  before 
the  throne  and  before  the  Lamb  clothed  in 
white  robes  and  with  palms  in  their  hands  ; 
and  how  the  angel  told  him,  '  These  are  they 
which  came  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  have 
washed  their  robes,  and  made  them  white  in 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  Therefore  are  they 
before  the  throne  of  God,  and  serve  Him  day 
and  night  in  His  temple  ;  and  He  that  sitteth 
on  the  throne  shall  dwell  among  them. 

"  '  They  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither 
thirst  any  more  ;  neither  shall  the  sun  light  on 
them,  nor  any  heat.  For  the  Lamb  which  is 
in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  them, 
and  shall  lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of 
waters .:  and  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears 
from  their  eyes '  ? 

"Mother,"  turning  to  her  with  a  glad, 
eager  look,  "  may  I  not  hope  to  be  one  of 
them  if  I  trust  in  Jesus  and  bear  with  patience 
and  resignation  whatever  He  sends  ?" 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  83 

"  Surely,  surely,  my  darling,"  Mrs.  Keith 
answered,  in  tremulous  tones.  "  They  stand 
in  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  and  so  will  all 
who  truly  come  to  Him  and  trust  only  in  His 
atoning  sacrifice. ' ' 

"Dear,  dear  Fan,"  whispered  Mildred, 
caressing  her  with  fast-falling  tears,  "  I  don't 
know  how  to  give  you  up.  And  oh,  darling — 
but  I  wish  1  had  been  a  better  sister  to  you  !' ' 

"  Why,  Milly,  how  could  you  have  been  ?" 
Fan  said,  with  a  look  and  tone  of  great  sur 
prise.  "  I  am  sure  you  were  always  the  best 
and  kindest  of  sisters  to  me." 

"No,  not  always,"  Mildred  said,  sorrow 
fully  ;  "  1  used  to  be  very  impatient  with  you 
at  times  when  you  were  a  little  thing  given  to 
mischief.  But  I  feel  now  that  I  would  give 
worlds  never  to  have  spoken  a  cross  word  to 
you." 

"  Ah,  we  must  often  have  made  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  with  our  mischievous  pranks — 
Cyril,  Don,  and  1' ' — Fan  said,  with  a  slight 
smile.  "  Don't  reproach  yourself  for  scolding 
us,  Milly  ;  I  am  sure  we  deserved  it  all,  and 
more." 

Mr.  Keith  was  told  the  doctor's  opinion 
that  day,  but  the  rest  of  the  family  were  left 
in  ignorance  of  it  for  the  present. 


8"4  MILDRED  AT  HOME, 

It  was  from  Fan  herself  Don  learned  it  at 
length.  They  were  alone  together,  and  he 
was  talking  hopefully  of  the  time  when  she 
would  be  up  and  about  again,  and  he  would 
take  her  boating  on  the  river,  riding  or  driv 
ing,  and  they  would  enjoy,  as  of  old,  long 
rambles  through  the  woods  in  search  of  the 
sweet  wild  flowers  that  would  come  again  with 
the  warm  spring  days. 

"  Dear  Don,  dear,  dear  brother  !"  she 
said,  giving  him  a  look  of  yearning  affection, 
"  do  you  not  know  that  when  those  days  come 
I  shall  be  walking  the  streets  of  the  Kew 
Jerusalem,  gathering  such  fruits  and  flowers 
as  earth  cannot  yield  ?" 

A  sudden  paleness  overspread  his  face,  his 
eyes  tilled,  and  his  lip  quivered.  "  Fan  ! 
Fan  !"  he  cried,  with  a  burst  of  emotion,  "  it 
can't  be  so  !  You  are  too  young  to  die,  and 
we  can't  spare  you.  You  are  weak  and  low- 
spirited  now,  but  you  will  feel  better  when 
the  bright  spring  days  come." 

She  smiled  sweetly,  pityingly  upon  him, 
softly  stroking  his  hair  with  her  thin  white 
hand  as  he  bent  over  her. 

"  No,  dear  Don,  I  am  not  low-spirited," 
she  said.  "  I  am  full  of  joy  in  the  prospect 
of  being  so  soon  with  my  Saviour.  Brother 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  85 

Charlie  says  it  will  not  be  very  long  now  ;  a 
week  or  two,  perhaps." 

"  1  can't  believe  it  !  1  won't  believe  it !" 
he  groaned.  "While  there's  life  there's 
hope.  It  can't  be  that  you  want  to  go  away 
and  leave  me,  Fan  ?"  and  his  tone  was  gently, 
lovingly  reproachful. 

"  K~o,"  she  said,  her  voice  trembling,  "  it 
is  pain  to  think  of  parting  from  you  and  the 
rest,  especially  our  dear,  dear  mother,  and  yet 
1  am  glad  to  go  to  be  with  Jesus.  Oh,  how 
I  long  to  see  His  face,  to  bow  at  His  feet,  and 
thank  Him  '  for  the  great  love  wherewith  He 
hath  loved  us. '  " 

"  But  you  have  a  great  deal  to  live  for, 
we  all  love  you  so. " 

"  '  In  thy  presence  is  fulness  of  joy,'  " 
she  repeated  ;  "  '  at  thy  right  hand  there  are 
pleasures  forever  more.' 

11  '  For  we  know  that  if  our  earthly  house 
of  this  tabernacle  were  dissolved,  we  have  a 
building  of  God,  an  house  not  made  with 
hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.' 

"  '  Henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a 
crown  of  righteousness,  which  the  Lord,  the 
righteous  Judge,  shall  give  me  at  that  day  : 
and  not  to  me  only,  but  unto  all  them  also 
that  love  His  appearing. ' 


86  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  '  For  since  the  beginning  of  the  world 
men  have  not  heard,  nor  perceived  by  the 
ear,  neither  hath  the  eye  seen,  O  God,  beside 
thee,  what  He  hath  prepared  for  him  that 
waiteth  for  Him.'  O  Don,  would  you  keep 
me  from  it  all  ?' ' 

"  Only  for  a  while,"  he  said,  struggling 
for  composure.  "It  is  too  dreadful  to  have 
you  die  so  young." 

"  '  Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the 
Lord  from  henceforth,'  '  she  repeated. 
"  *  My  people  shall  dwell  in  a  peaceable  habi 
tation,  and  in  sure  dwellings,  and  in  quiet 
resting  places.'  O  Don,  think  of  the 
golden  streets  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  the 
beautiful  river  of  the  water  of  life,  the  tree 
of  life  with  its  twelve  manner  of  fruits,  the 
white  robes,  the  golden  harps,  the  crowns  of 
glory  ;  and  that  there  will  be  no  more  sick 
ness,  or  sorrow,  or  pain  ;  no  more  sin,  no 
night,  no  need  of  a  candle  to  light  them,  nor 
of  the  sun,  or  the  moon,  the  glory  of  God 
and  Christ  lighting  it  always. 

"  Think  of  Jesus  making  me  to  lie  down 
in  green  pastures  and  leading  me  beside  still 
waters." 

"  You  seem  just  as  sure,  Fan,  as  if  you  were 
already  there,"  he  said,  in  admiring  wonder. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  87 

"  Yes,  Don,  because  the  promise  is  sure— 
the  promise  of  Jesus,  '  I  give  unto  them  eter 
nal  life,  and  they  shall  never  perish  ;  neither 
shall  any  pluck  them  out  of  my  hand.' ' 

Celestia  Ann  came  in  at  that  moment, 
carrying  a  china  cup  and  plate  on  a  small 
waiter  covered  with  a  snowy  napkin. 

"  Here,  I've  fetched  you  a  bit  o'  cream 
toast  and  a  cup  o'  tea,  Fan,"  she  said.  "  I 
hope  you  kin  eat  it.  But,  dear  me,  you're 
lookin'  all  tuckered  out.  I'll  bet  Don's  beeii 
a-makin'  you  talk  a  heap  more'n  was  good  fer 
ye.  Now  ye  jest  clear  out,  Don,  and  let's  see 
if  I  can't  be  a  better  nurse." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  her,"  Don  said 
gruffly,  trying  to  hide  the  pain  at  his  heart. 

"No,  and  you  haven't,"  said  Fan,  gazing 
lovingly  after  him  as  he  turned  to  go  ;  "if 
I've  talked  too  much,  it  was  my  own  doing." 

Don  hurrying  down-stairs  and  into  the 
parlor,  which  he  expected  to  find  empty, 
came  suddenly  into  the  midst  of  a  little  group 
— his  father,  mother,  and  Mildred — convers 
ing  together  in  subdued  tones. 

He  was  beating  a  hasty  retreat,  thinking 
he  had  intruded  upon  a  private  interview, 
when  his  father  called  him  back. 

"  We  have  nothing  to  conceal  from  you, 


88  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Don,"  he  said,  in  tremulous  tones,  and  the 
lad,  catching  sight  of  the  faces  of  his  mother 
and  sister,  perceived  that  they  had  both  been 
weeping.  "  1  suppose  you  know  that — " 
Mr.  Keith  paused,  unable  to  proceed. 

"Is  it  about  Fan  ?"  Don  asked  huskily. 
"  Yes,  sir  ;  she  has  just  told  me.  But  oh,  I 
can't  believe  it !  We  must  do  something  to 
save  her  !"  he  burst  out,  in  a  paroxysm  of 
grief. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  cried  Annis,  com 
ing  dancing  into  the  room  in  her  usual  light- 
hearted  fashion,  but  startled  into  soberness  at 
sight  of  Don's  emotion  and  the  grief -stricken 
countenances  of  the  others. 

Her  mother  motioned  her  to  her  side,  and 
putting  an  arm  about  her,  kissed  her  ten 
derly,  the  tears  streaming  over  her  face. 
"  Annis,  dear,"  she  said,  in  broken  accents, 
"  perhaps  we  ought  not  to  grieve,  Fan  is  so 
happy,  but  it  makes  our  hearts  sad  to  know 
that  very  soon  we  shall  see  her  loved  face  no 
more  upon  earth." 

"  Mother  !"  cried  Annis,  hiding  her  face 
on  her  mother's  breast  and  bursting  into  wild 
weeping,  "  O  mother,  mother,  it  can't  be 
that  she's  going  to  die  !  She  can  never  bear 
to  go  away  from  you  !" 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  89 

"  Yes,  dear,  she  can,"  was  the  weeping 
rejoinder.  "  She  finds  Jesus  nearer  and 
dearer  than  her  mother,  and  how  can  1  thank 
Him  enough  that  it  is  so  ?' ' 

""We  have  sent  for  Cyril,"  Mr.  Keith 
said,  addressing  Don,  and  handing  him  a  let 
ter.  "  He  hopes  to  be  with  us  to-morrow. 
She  could  not  go  without  seeing  him  once 
more." 

A  little  later  Don,  left  alone  with  Mildred, 
asked,  ' '  O  Milly,  is  there  no  hope  ?  no 
possibility  of  a  favorable  change  ?' ' 

"  None  so  far  as  man  can  see,"  she  an 
swered  through  her  tears  and  sobs.  "  But 
with  God  all  things  are  possible." 

"  I've  been  talking  with  her,"  he  said 
presently,  when  he  could  control  his  emotion 
sufficiently  to  speak  ;  "  she  told  me  herself 
that — that  she  was — going  away.  And  she 
seemed  so  happy,  so  utterly  without  fear,  that 
I  could  hardly  believe  it  was  our  timid  little 
Fan — always  shrinking  so  from  going  among 
strangers." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mildred,  "  what  a  triumph 
of  faith  !  Her  fearlessness  is  not  from  any 
lack  of  a  deep  sense  of  sin,  but  because  she  is 
trusting  in  the  imputed  righteousness  of 
Christ.  She  trusts  Him  fully,  and  so  her 


90  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

peace  is  like  a  river.  It  continually  brings  to 
my  mind  that  sweet  text  in  Isaiah,  '  And  the 
work  of  righteousness  shall  be  peace  ;  and  the 
effect  of  righteousness  quietness  and  assurance 
forever.'  ' 

And  so  it  was  to  the  very  end  ;  the  sweet 
young  Christian  passed  away  so  calmly  and 
peacefully  that  her  loved  ones  watching  be- 
eide  her  bed  scarce  could  tell  the  precise  mo 
ment  when  her  spirit  took  its  flight. 

There  was  no  gloom  in  the  death-bed 
scene,  and  there  seemed  little  about  the  grave 
as  they  laid  her  body  tenderly  down  there  to 
rest  till  the  resurrection  morn,  knowing  that 
the  spirit  was  even  then  rejoicing  in  the  pres 
ence  and  love  of  her  Redeemer. 


Chapter 


"  Heaven,  the  perfection  of  all  that  can 
Be  said,  or  thought,  riches,  delight,  or  harmony, 
Health,  beauty  :  and  all  these  not  subject  to 
The  waste  of  time,  but  in  their  height  eternal." 

—  SHIRLEY. 


have  no  need  to  weep  for  her,  my 
darling,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said,  softly  stroking 
Elsie's  hair  as  she  lay  sobbing  in  his  arms,  an 
open  letter  in  her  hand. 

"No,  papa,  not  for  her,  I  know  ;  but  for 
the  others.  See,  Annis'  s  letter  is  all  blistered 
with  her  tears,  and  she  says  it  seems  at  times 
as  if  her  heart  would  break.  And  Don  ;  oh, 
she  says  Don  is  almost  wild  with  grief  ;  that  he 
tells  her  he  can  hardly  bear  to  be  in  the  house, 
it  is  so  lonely  and  desolate  without  Fan." 

"Yes,  I  have  no  doubt  they  miss  her 
sorely  ;  yet  time  will  assuage  their  grief  ; 
they  will  come  to  think  less  of  their  own  loss 
and  more  of  her  blessedness." 

Elsie  lifted  her  face  and  wiped  away  her 
tears.  "  Is  it  not  wonderful,  papa,"  she  said, 


92  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  that  Fan,  always  so  timid  and  retiring, 
always  clinging  so  to  her  mother  and  home, 
should  be  so  willing  and  even  glad  to  go  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said  ;  "  it  shows  what  the  grace 
of  God  can  do.  She  must  have  been  given  a 
very  strong  sense  of  her  Saviour's  love  and 
presence  with  her  as  she  passed  through  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  It  helps  one 
to  stronger  faith  in  the  precious  promise, 
*  As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be.'  ' 

Rose,  sitting  by  reading  a  letter  with  fast- 
falling  tears,  wiped  them  away  at  that,  and  look 
ing  up,  said,  "  Let  me  read  you  some  things 
that  Mildred  tells  me  about  her  last  hours." 

"  We  will  be  glad  to  hear  them,"  Mr. 
Dinsmore  answered,  and  she  began  : 

"  l  It  was  the  loveliest  death-bed  scene — 
no  fear,  no  desire  to  stay.  As  I  stood  beside 
her,  an  hour  or  two  before  the  messenger 
came,  I  leaned  over  her  and  repeated  the 
words,  "  The  eternal  God  is  thy  refuge,  and 
underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms." 

"  '  She  looked  up  with  the  sweetest  smile. 
"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  Jesus  is  with  me,  and  I 
am  not  afraid  ;  He  will  carry  me  safely 
through  the  river." 

"  '  Mother  added  :  "  And  to  a  beautiful 
home — one  of  the  many  mansions  He  has  pre- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  93 

pared  for  His  people.  You  may  be  sure  it  is 
very  lovely,  very  delightful  with  everything 
you  can  possibly  desire  ;  for  the  wealth  of 
the  universe  is  His  ;  He  has  all  power  in 
heaven  and  in  earth  ;  and  you,  for  whom  He 
has  been  making  it  ready,  are  dearer  far  to 
His  heart  than  to  mine. 

"  *  "  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard, 
neither  have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man, 
the  things  that  God  hath  prepared  for  them 
that  love  Him." 

"  '  Her  look  was  ecstatic  as  she  listened. 
"  Oh,  how  happy  I  shall  be  !"  she  exclaimed. 
"  And  it  will  seem  only  a  very  little  while 
till  you  will  all  join  me  there." 

"  '  She  has  brought  heaven  very  near  to 
us  all,'  Mildred  added.  '  It  seems  far  more 
real  to  me  than  it  ever  did  before.  She  has 
entered  into  the  joy  of  the  Lord,  and  we  can 
not  mourn  at  all  for  her,  though  our  hearts 
are  sore  with  our  own  loss. 

«  t  n  precious  jn  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is 
the  death  of  His  saints."  Does  He  not 
gather  them  home  with  joy  and  rejoicing  to 
the  mansions  His  love  has  made  beautiful  be 
yond  compare  for  them  ?  I  think  our  little 
Fan  was  so  dear  to  Him  that  He  could  no 
longer  spare  her  to  us,  nor  was  willing  to 


94  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

leave  her  any  longer  in  this  world  of  sin  and 
Buffering.  That  is  our  mother's  feeling, 
father's  too,  1  think  ;  and  no  one  could  be 
more  resigned,  more  perfectly  submissive, 
than  they  are. '  ' 

"  Yes,  Marcia  is  a  devoted  Christian," 
Mr.  Dinsmore  said ;  and,  drawing  Elsie  into 
a  closer  embrace,  "  1  feel  deeply  for  her  in 
this  sore  bereavement." 

He  was  asking  himself,  as  again  and  again 
he  pressed  his  lips  to  his  daughter's  fair  brow, 
how  he  could  ever  endure  such  a  loss. 

There  had  been  a  steady  correspondence 
between  Rose  and  Mildred,  Annis  and  Elsie, 
ever  since  the  winter  spent  at  the  Oaks  by  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Landreth  and  Annis. 

Housekeeping  cares  and  discussions  in  re 
gard  to  the  best  manner  of  rearing  their  little 
ones  filled  no  small  part  of  the  letters  of  the 
two  young  mothers. 

Elsie  and  Annis  wrote  of  their  studies, 
amusements,  and  the  every-day  occurrences  in 
each  family. 

Thus  Annis  had  learned  about  the  life  Elsie 
and  her  father  led  together  while  Rose  was 
absent,  of  their  journey  to  Philadelphia  when 
he  found  himself  able  to  go  for  his  wife  and 
little  Horace,  the  visit  there,  and  the  return 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  95- 

trip ;  and  Elsie  had  been  kept  informed, 
among  other  events,  of  the  progress  of  Fan's- 
sickness ;  and  the  letter  received  to-day  had 
given  an  account  of  her  death  and  burial. 

"  Papa,"  Elsie  asked,  lifting  her  weeping 
eyes  to  his  face,  ' '  what  can  I  say  to  comfort 
poor  dear  Annis  ?" 

"  Just  what  I  have  been  asking  myself  in 
regard  to  Marcia,"  he  remarked,  with  a  deep- 
drawn  sigh. 

"  And  1  about  Mildred,"  Rose  said,  echo 
ing  the  sigh.  "  I  know  of  scarcely  anything 
more  delicate  and  difficult  than  the  writing  of 
a  letter  of  condolence." 

"  It  is  extremely  so  in  a  case  where  there 
is  any  doubt  of  the  happiness  of  the  depart 
ed,'  '  Mr.  Dinsmore  said  ;  "  but  comparatively 
easy  when  we  know  that  to  the  dear  one  gone 
to  be  absent  from  the  body  is  to  be  present 
with  the  Lord.  Also  that  the  mourners  are 
of  those  who  have  a  good  hope  through  grace 
that  it  shall  be  so  with  themselves." 

"  I  shall  look  for  Bible  words,"  Elsie  said, 
leaving  her  father's  knee  to  get  her  own  little 
copy,  lying  on  a  table  near  at  hand. 

"  Bring  it  here,  and  let  us  look  it  over  to 
gether,"  her  father  said  ;  and  obeying  with 
alacrity,  she  again  seated  herself  upon  his  knee. 


96  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Rose  brought  another  Bible  and  a  con 
cordance,  and  joined  them  in  their  search  for 
whatever  the  blessed  Book  could  tell  them  of 
the  employments  and  enjoyments  of  heaven. 
They  found  it  spoken  of  as  a  rest,  as  the 
Father's  house,  a  heavenly  country,  the 
kingdom  of  Christ  and  of  God  ;  that  they 
who  overcome  and  reach  that  glorious  place 
shall  eat  of  the  hidden  manna,  shall  walk  with 
Christ  in  white  ;  that  He  will  wipe  away  all 
tears  from  their  eyes  ;  that  He  will  feed  them 
and  lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of  wa 
ters  ;  that  He  will  dwell  among  them,  and  they 
shall  serve  Him  day  and  night  in  His  temple. 

That  "  they  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither 
thirst  any  more  ;  neither  shall  the  sun  light 
on  them,  nor  any  heat ;"  that  they  have 
palms  of  victory,  white  robes,  and  crowns,  and 
harps  of  gold  ;  and  that  they  stand  before  the 
throne  and  sing  a  new  song,  which  no  man  can 
learn  but  those  who  are  redeemed  from  the 
€arth. 

"  And  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from 
their  eyes  ;  and  there  shall  be  no  more  death, 
neither  sorrow,  nor  crying,  neither  shall  there 
be  any  more  pain  :  for  the  former  things  are 
passed  away." 

"  Papa,"  said  Elsie,  "  Enna  told  me  once 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  9? 

she  didn't  want  to  go  to  heaven  and  stand  and 
sing  all  the  time  ;  she  would  get  tired  of  that. 
1  feel  as  if  I  should  never  grow  weary  of  sing 
ing  God's  praise.  I  love  those  words  of  one 
of  our  hymns  : 

"  '  When  we've  been  there 
Ten  thousand  years, 

Bright  shining  as  the  sun, 
We've  no  less  days 
To  sing  God's  praise 

Than  when  we  first  begun.' 

But  surely  singing  is  not  the  only  employment 
there  ;  for  here  in  the  twenty-first  chapter  of 
Revelation  it  says,  '  And  the  nations  of  them 
which  are  saved  shall  walk  in  the  light  of  it.* 
Then  in  the  third  verse  of  the  next  chapter, 
(  The  throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb  shall  be  in 
it ;  and  Ris  servants  shall  serve  Him. '  Don't 
you  think  that  means  that  He  will  give  us- 
some  work  to  do  for  Him  ?" 

Her  face  was  full  of  an  eager  joy. 

"  Yes,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said,  "  I  do.  Just 
what  it  will  be  the  Bible  does  not  tell  us,  but 
to  those  who  love  the  Master  it  must  be  a  de 
light  to  do  whatever  He  bids.  The  rest  of 
heaven  will  not  be  that  of  inaction,  but  the  far 
more  enjoyable  one  of  useful  employment 
without  any  sense  of  weariness. 


98  MILDRED  AT  SOME. 

"  Perhaps  He  may  sometimes  send  His 
redeemed  ones  on  errands  of  mercy  or  conso 
lation  to  the  inhabitants  of  this  or  some  other 
world." 

"  How  sweet  that  would  be  !"  exclaimed 
Elsie,  joyously.  "  Papa,  if  I  should  go  first, 
what  happiness  it  would  be  to  come  back 
sometimes  and  comfort  you  in  your  hours  of 
sadness. ' ' 

"  I  should  rather  have  you  here  in  the 
body,' '  he  said,  tightening  his  clasp  about  her 
waist. 

"  God  has  not  seen  fit  to  gratify  idle  curi 
osity  in  regard  to  these  matters,"  he  resumed, 
"  but  He  has  told  us  enough  to  leave  no  room 
for  doubt  that  heaven  is  an  abode  of  tran 
scendent  bliss." 

"  Yes,  papa,  just  to  know  that  we  will 
"be  forever  with  the  Lord — near  Him  and  like 
Him — is  quite  enough  to  make  one  long  to  be 
there.  Dear,  dear  Fan  !  How  blest  she  is  ! 
Who  could  wish  her  back  again  !' ' 

"  No  one  who  loves  her  with  an  unselfish 
love.  And  now  I  think  we  may  write  our 
letters." 

"  No  doubt  they  already  know  all  that  we 
can  tell  them,  for  they  are  students  of  the 
Word,  every  one,"  observed  Rose.  "  Yet  it 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  9& 

does  one  good  to  have  these  precious  truths 
repeated  many  times." 

"Yes,"  said  her  husband,  "  we  are  sa 
prone  to  forgetfulness  and  unbelief,  and 
Satan  is  so  constantly  on  the  watch  to  snatch 
away  the  word  oat  of  our  hearts  and  destroy 
our  comfort,  if  he  could  do  nothing  more." 

"  Papa,"  said  Elsie,  "  I  sometimes  feel  so 
afraid  of  him  ;  then  I  remember  that  Jesus  is 
eo  much  stronger,  and  I  seem  to  run  right 
into  His  arms,  and  am  full  of  joy  that  there  I 
am  so  safe.  You  know  He  says  of  His  peo 
ple,  '  I  give  unto  them  eternal  life  ;  and  they 
shall  never  perish,  neither  shall  any  pluck 
them  out  of  my  hand.'  " 

u  No,  not  all  the  powers  of  hell  can  do  it, 
for  '  He  is  able  to  save  them  to  the  uttermost 
that  come  unto  God  by  Him.'  He  said,  *  All 
power  is  given  unto  me  in  heaven  and  in 
earth. '  And  '  1  am  persuaded  that  neither 
death,  nor  life,  nor  angels,  nor  principalities, 
nor  powers,  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to 
come,  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other 
creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from  the 
love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our 
Lord.'  " 


<£ jmpto  <%j)tjr, 

"  Farewell ;  God  knows  when  we  shall  meet  again." 

MILDKED  was  in  her  pretty  sitting-room 
busily  plying  her  needle,  little  Percy  play 
ing  about  the  floor — rolling  a  ball  hither  and 
thither. 

Both  mother  and  child  were  neatly  attired 
— the  little  one  in  spotless  white,  his  golden 
curls  hanging  about  his  neck,  and  half -shading 
a  round  rosy  face  with  big  blue  eyes  ;  the 
mother  in  a  dark  cashmere,  which  fell  in  soft 
folds  around  her  graceful  figure,  and  was  re 
lieved  at  throat  and  wrists  by  dainty  white 
ruffles  of  lace ;  her  hair  was  becomingly  ar 
ranged,  and  she  had  never  presented  a  more 
attractive  appearance,  even  in  the  days  of  her 
girlhood. 

Mildred  was  not  one  of  those  who  are  less 
careful  to  please  the  husband  than  the  lover  ; 
she  studied  Charlie's  tastes  and  wishes  even 
more  carefully  now  than  had  been  her  wont 
before  they  were  married.  Perhaps  in  that 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  101 

Jay  the  secret  of  his  undiminislied  and  lover- 
like  devotion  to  her. 

Both  he  and  she  had  a  great  aversion  to 
mourning,  therefore  were  glad  that  Fan  had 
particularly  requested  that  none  should  be 
worn  for  her. 

It  was  a  little  past  their  usual  hour  for 
tea,  and  the  open  dining-room  door  gave  a 
glimpse  of  a  table  covered  with  snowy  damask 
and  glittering  with  polished  silver,  cut  glass, 
and  china  ;  but  Dr.  Landreth  was  closeted 
with  some  one  in  his  office  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hall,  and  his  wife  waited  the  departure 
of  the  patient  a  trifle  anxiously,  fearing  that 
her  carefully  prepared  viands  would  lose  their 
finest  flavor,  if  not  be  rendered  quite  tasteless- 
by  standing  so  long. 

"  Shall  I  make  de  waffles  in  de  iron, 
ma'am?"  asked  Gretchen,  coming  to  the 
door. 

"No,  not  yet,"  said  Mildred,  "they 
would  be  cooked  too  soon  ;  the  doctor  likes 
them  best  just  as  they  are  ready. ' ' 

"  De  iron  gets  too  hot,' '  observed  the  girl. 

"  Yes,  take  it  off,  Gretchen.  I  can't  tell 
just  how  soon  the  doctor  will  be  in,  so  we 
will  have  to  keep  him  waiting  while  we  heat 
the  iron." 


102  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

The  girl  went  back  to  her  kitchen,  and 
Percy,  dropping  his  toys,  came  to  his  mother's 
side  with  a  petition  to  be  taken  into  her  lap. 

She  laid  aside  her  sewing,  took  him  on  her 
knee,  and  amused  him  with  stories  suited  to 
his  baby  mind. 

At  length  she  heard  the  office  door  open, 
and  a  familiar  voice  saying,  "  Well,  Charlie, 
I  shall  take  the  matter  into  consideration. 
Am  much  obliged  for  your  advice,  whether  I 
follow  it  or  not." 

Mildred  hastily  set  Percy  down,  and  ran  to 
the  door. 

"  Rupert,"  she  said,  "  won't  you  stay  to 
tea?" 

"  Thank  you,  Milly,  not  to-night,"  he  an 
swered.  "  1  have  already  declined  a  warm 
invitation  from  Charlie. "  And  with  a  hasty 
"  Good-by"  he  hurried  away. 

Mildred  thought  her  husband's  face  un 
usually  grave,  even  troubled,  as  he  came  into 
the  sitting-room,  and  a  sudden  fear  assailed  her. 

"Charlie,"  she  cried,  her  cheek  paling, 
*'  what — what  was  Rupert  consulting  you 
about?" 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  Milly,  love,"  he  an 
swered,  taking  his  boy  upon  one  arm  and  put 
ting  the  other  about  her  waist. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  103 

"I  have  thought  for  some  time  that 
Rupert  was  growing  thin  and  haggard, "  she 
said  brokenly,  tears  filling  her  eyes,"  and — 
"  O  Charlie,  I  have  often  noticed,  and  heard  it 
remarked,  that  one  death  in  a  family  is  apt  to 
follow  closely  upon  another." 

She  ended  with  a  sob,  laying  her  head  on 
his  shoulder. 

"  Don't  ky,  mamma,"  cooed  little  Percy, 
patting  her  cheek  ;  "  oo  baby  boy  tiss  oo, 
make  oo  all  well. ' ' 

She  lifted  her  head,  returned  the  caresses 
lavished  upon  her  by  both  husband  and  child, 
then  asked  earnestly  and  half  pleadingly, 
"  Won't  you  tell  me  if — if  Rupert  is  se 
riously  ill  ?" 

"  He  is  broken  down  with  overwork  ;  has 
been  devoting  himself  too  closely  to  business, 
and  needs  an  entire  change  for  a  time,"  re 
plied  her  husband,  speaking  in  a  cheerful 
tone.  "  If  he  will  take  that  at  once  and  for 
a  long  enough  time  he  may,  I  think,  be  re 
stored  to  full  health  and  vigor." 

"  Surely,  surely  he  will  do  so  without  de- 
lay?" 

"  I  can't  say  ;  he  thinks  it  almost  impos 
sible  to  leave  his  business  at  present,  and 
would  rather  try  half-way  measures  first." 


104  MILDRED  AT  HOME, 

1 1  He  must  be  persuaded  out  of  that,  and 
I  think  can  be,"  she  said,  her  countenance 
brightening.  "  Now  you  must  excuse  me 
for  a  few  minutes,  my  dear  ;  Gretchen  is  im 
proving,  but  I  cannot  yet  trust  her  to  bake 
your  waffles  quite  to  my  mind." 

"  Let  her  try,  Milly  ;  how  else  is  she  ever 
to  learn?" 

"  I  shall  after  1  have  seen  that  the  iron  is 
properly  heated  and  filled,"  she  answered,  as 
she  hastened  away  to  the  kitchen. 

Celestia  Ann  was  at  the  front  gate  as 
Rupert  neared  it.  She  turned  her  head  at 
the  sound  of  his  footsteps. 

"  So  here  you  be  at  last  !"  she  exclaimed  ; 
"  and  I  was  lookin'  right  in  the  wrong  direc 
tion.  Been  up  to  the  doctor's,  I  s'pose  ? 
Well,  they're  set  down  to  the  table  without 
ye.  We  waited  a  spell,  an'  then  I  told  your 
mother  t'want  no  use,  fer  ye  don't  eat 
nothin'  nohow,  let  me  fix  up  the  victuals 
good's  I  can." 

"  I  am  late,  and  am  sorry  if  the  meal  has 
been  kept  waiting,"  Rupert  answered,  as  he 
hurried  past  her  into  the  house. 

His  mother  gave  him  a  kindly  affectionate 
smile  as  he  entered  the  dining-room,  and 
stopped  his  apology  half  way. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  105 

"Never  mind,  my  son,  it  is  no  matter, 
except  that  your  meal  will  not,  1  fear,  be  quite 
so  good  and  enjoyable,  which  is  a  pity,  as  your 
appetite  is  so  poor  of  late." 

There  was  some  anxiety  in  her  look  and 
tone,  also  in  the  glance  his  father  gave  him 
as  he  seated  himself  at  the  table. 

"  I  fear  you  are  working  too  hard, 
Rupert,"  he  said;  "confining  yourself  too 
closely  to  business." 

"  Just  what  Charlie  has  been  telling  me," 
the  young  man  responded  with  a  half  sigh  ; 
"  but  how  is  it  to  be  helped  ?" 

"  By  putting  health  before  business,"  his 
mother  said,  with  decision.  "  My  dear  boy,  if 
you  lose  your  health,  what  will  become  of 
your  business  ?" 

"True,  mother,"  he  sighed;  "but  I 
have  not  quite  given  up  the  hope  that  I  may 
regain  the  one  without  relinquishing  the 
other." 

"  A  pound  of  prevention  is  worth  an 
ounce  of  cure,"  remarked  Aunt  Wealthy 
absently,  rather  as  if  thinking  aloud  than  ad 
dressing  the  company. 

"  What  does  Charlie  advise  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Keith. 

"  An  entire  change  for  some  months  or  a 


106  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

year,  including  a  journey  to  some  distant 
point.  Quite  impracticable,  is  it  not,  father  ?" 
Rupert  asked,  turning  to  him. 

11  If  you  want  my  opinion,"  replied  Mr. 
Keith,  "  I  say  nothing  is  impracticable  which 
is  necessary  to  the  preservation  of  your  life  or 
even  of  your  health.  We  cannot  spare  you, 
my  son,"  he  continued  with  emotion  ;  "  it  is 
to  you  more  than  any  of  the  others  that  your 
mother  and  I  look  as  the  prop  and  support  of 
our  old  age. ' ' 

"  Thank  you,  father,"  Rupert  said  with 
feeling  ;  "  that  pleasing  task  would,  of  course,, 
naturally  fall  to  me  as  the  eldest  son,  though 
if  I  were  taken  away,  my  brothers,  I  am  sure, 
would  be  no  less  glad  to  undertake  it." 

"  No  ;  it  would  be  the  greatest  joy  in 
life,"  said  Don  with  warmth,  glancing  affec 
tionately  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  parents- 
"  I  can  answer  for  Cyril  as  well  as  myself." 

"1  haven't  the  least  doubt  of  it,  Don,'r 
replied  his  father,  while  the  mother  said,  with 
glistening  eyes,  "  We  are  rich  in  the  affection, 
of  our  children,  both  boys  and  girls,"  she 
added,  with  a  loving  look  into  Annis's  blue 
eyes. 

The  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Annis  wa& 
thinking  how  often  she  had  heard  Fan  say 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  107 

that  she  was  to  be  the  one  always  to  stay  at 
home  and  take  care  of  father  and  mother  ;  dear 
Fan,  who  had  now  been  nearly  two  months  in 
heaven. 

Oh,  how  they  all  missed  her  at  every  turn, 
though  Annis  strove  earnestly  to  supply  her 
place. 

Leaving  the  table,  they  all  repaired  to  the 
sitting-room  ;  but  Don,  after  lingering  a  mo 
ment,  took  up  his  cap,  and  moved  toward  the 
hall  door. 

"Don't  forsake  us,  Don,"  said  his 
mother,  following  his  movements  with  a  look 
of  mingled  love  and  sadness.  It  was  no  secret 
to  her  that  the  house  seemed  to  him  unbear 
ably  desolate,  deprived  of  the  loved  presence 
of  his  favorite  sister. 

"  Only  for  a  few  minutes,  mother ;  I 
want  a  chat  with  Wallace,  and  this  is  about 
the  best  time  to  catch  him  at  leisure." 

"  My  poor  boy!"  sighed  Mrs.  Keith,  as 
the  door  closed  on  him. 

"  Yes,  he  feels  very  sad  and  lonely,"  said 
Rupert.  "  But  I  am  glad  he  has  left  us  for 
a  little  while,  for  1  want  to  have  a  talk  with 
you  and  father  about  him  ;  myself  also,"  he 
added,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  Don't  go,  Aunt 
Wealthy,"  as  Miss  Stanhope  rose  as  if  to  leave 


108  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

the  room  ;  "  what  I  have  to  say  need  be  no 
secret  from  you,  and  I  think  we  will  all  be  glad 
of  your  counsel  in  the  matter. ' ' 

She  sat  down  again,  and  Annis  asked, 
u  May  I  stay  too,  Rupert  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  inviting  her  to  a  seat  by 
his  side. 

He  then  proceeded  to  give  an  account  of 
his  interview  with  Dr.  Landreth,  stating  that 
he  strongly  advised  him  to  wind  up  his  busi 
ness,  or  make  some  sort  of  arrangement  for 
leaving  it  for  a  year  or  more,  and  join  a  party 
preparing  to  go  to  California  ;  the  journey 
across  the  plains  he  thought  would  prove  the 
very  thing  for  him  ;  nothing  else  so  likely  to 
restore  his  shattered  health. ' ' 

"And  I  have  been  thinking,"  added 
Rupert,  ' '  that  it  might  be  the  very  best  thing 
for  Don  if  you,  father  and  mother,  would 
consent  to  let  him  go  with  me,  in  case  I  fol 
low  Charlie's  advice.  He  seems  to  me  as  ill 
mentally  as  1  am  physically,  and  we  would 
be  mutual  helpers. 

' '  I  have  no  idea  that  we  should  make  our 
fortunes  at  gold-digging,  but  I  doubt  if  the 
boy  will  ever  be  content  till  he  has  tried  hi& 
hand  at  it.  But  let  his  dreams  be  dispelled, 
and  he  will  be  ready  to  settle  down  at  home." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  109 

"  If  lie  ever  gets  home  again,"  remarked 
the  father.  "  It  may  be  that  you  are  right 
though,  Rupert,  and  your  mother  and  I  will 
take  the  matter  into  consideration." 

"Yes,  sir,  in  regard  to  us  both,  I  hope  ;  I 
want  your  advice  as  to  my  own  course  ;  it  will 
go  far  to  help  me  decide  what  I  ought  to  do. " 

Both  parents  looked  gratified,  while  Miss 
Stanhope  remarked,  ' '  You  are  quite  right  in 
that,  Rupert  ;  you  could  not  have  wiser  coun 
sellors  than  they,  and  certainly  none  so  deep 
ly  interested  in  your  welfare  ;  nor  will  you, 
or  any  one,  ever  lose  by  honoring  parents." 

"  I  am  very  fortunate  in  having  parents 
worthy  of  all  honor,  Aunt  Wealthy,"  he  said, 
with  an  affectionate  glance  from  one  to  the 
other.  "  Mother,  dear,  do  not  look  so  sad," 
perceiving  that  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears  ; 
t(  I  cannot  think  of  going,  if  it  is  to  be  at  the 
risk  of  breaking  your  heart.' ' 

"  No,  my  heart  will  not  break,"  she  said 
in  a  determinately  cheerful  tone  ;  "  the  prom 
ise  is  sure,  *  As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength 
be. '  And  it  will  be  better  to  part  with  you 
for  a  time  than  forever  in  this  life,"  she  add 
ed  with  a  tremble  in  her  voice.  "  Also  I 
should  be  more  willing  to  see  two  of  my  boys 
go  together  than  any  one  of  them  alone." 


110  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

11  Then  if  I  go,  you  will  consent  to  Don's 
accompanying  me  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you,  father?" 

"  I  feel  just  as  your  mother  does  about 
it,"  was  Mr.  Keith's  reply. 

"  But  if  Don  should  not  wish  to  go  ?" 
suggested  Miss  Stanhope,  in  a  tone  of  in 
quiry. 

"  Oh,  no  fear  of  that,  auntie,"  laughed 
Annis  ;  "  he's  been  crazy  to  go  ever  since  the 
first  news  of  the  gold,  and  you  can't  scare 
him  out  of  it  either  ;  the  more  you  talk  of 
Indians,  bears,  and  wolves,  and  all  other  dan 
gers,  the  more  he  wants  to  try  it.  He  says 
life  in  this  little  slow  town  is  altogether  too 
tame  to  suit  a  fellow  of  spirit. ' ' 

"  Better  suited  to  the  humdrum  class  rep 
resented  by  his  father  and  older  brother,  I  pre 
sume, "  said  Rupert,  with  a  good-humored 
smile. 

As  Don  stepped  in  at  Wallace  Ormsby's 
gate,  Zillah  opened  the  front  door,  ran  out, 
and  hastily  caught  up  little  Stuart,  who  was 
digging  in  the  sand,  and  carried  him  strug 
gling  and  screaming  into  the  house. 

' '  It's  too  cold  for  you  to  be  out ;  mamma 
can't  let  you  ;  mamma  told  you  not  to  go 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  Ill 

out,"  she  was  saying  as  Don  followed  her  into 
the  sitting-room. 

"  I  will  doe  out !  Ope  de  door !" 
screamed  the  child  ;  ' '  me  wants  pay  in  de 
sand." 

"  No,  you  can't  go  out  any  more  to 
night,"  replied  the  mother,  giving  him  a  hug 
and  kiss.  "  Oh,  he's  mamma's  darling  !  there 
never  was  such  a  boy  in  all  the  world  !  there 
never  was  t  Mamma  loves  him  ever  so 
much.'7 

Meanwhile  the  child  was  struggling  with 
all  his  baby  might  to  get  away  from  her,  kick 
ing,  striking,  screaming  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  "  I  will  doe  out  !  /  will!  I  willf 
Shan't  'tay  in  de  house  !" 

"  Oh,  now,  be  a  dear  good  boy,"  entreated 
Zillah;  "he's  mamma's  own  pet,  the  dear 
est,  sweetest  boy  in  the  world  ;  mamma  thinks 
there  never  was  such  a  boy  !" 

"  I  should  hope  not,  if  that's  the  way  he 
carries  on,"  remarked  Don,  seating  himself 
and  regarding  his  nephew  with  a  look  of  dis 
gust  and  disapproval.  "  I  think  he's  spoiling 
for  a  spanking,  and  if  he  were  my  child  he'd 
get  it." 

Zillah  flushed  hotly.  "  Men  and  boys 
have  no  patience  with  children,"  she  said. 


MILDRED  AT  HOMS 

"  There,  Stuart,  stop  crying,  and  mamma  will 
get  you  something  good." 

"  No  ;  ope  door  ;  me  want  doe  out ;  me 
will  doe  out !"  screamed  the  child. 

"  Oh,  now,  do  be  good  ;  do  stop  crying, 
and  mamma  will  get  you  some  candy,"  said 
.Zillah,  in  her  most  coaxing  tones. 

"  Tanny,  mamma?"  asked  the  child,  the 
screams  suddenly  ceasing,  and  smiles  breaking 
through  the  tears. 

"  Yes,"  Zillah  said,  drying  his  eyes  and 
kissing  him  fondly,  then  rising  with  him  in 
her  arms  and  going  to  a  cupboard. 

But  the  size  of  the  piece  she  offered  did 
not  suit  the  ideas  of  the  young  tyrant  ;  he  re 
fused  to  accept  it,  and  bursting  into  screams 
again  demanded  a  bigger  one. 

' '  Take  this  in  one  hand,  and  you  shall  have 
a  bigger  piece  in  the  other,"  said  the  over-in 
dulgent  mamma,  and  peace  being  restored  she 
sat  down  with  him  on  her  lap,  and  began  talk 
ing  with  Don. 

"  Where's  Wallace  ?"  the  latter  presently 
inquired. 

"  He  went  down-town  again  after  tea,  but 
said  he  wouldn't  be  gone  very  long.  Do  you 
want  to  see  him  particularly  ?" 

"  1  would  like  a  talk  with  him,"  Don  said, 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  US 

with  a  sigh.  "  I  wish  lie  would  try  to  get 
father  and  mother  to  consent  to  my  joining 
the  party  that  are  going  to  California. ' ' 

"  O  Don,  how  can  you  suggest  such  a 
thing  now  when  they  are  feeling  so  sad  over 
poor  Fan  ?"  exclaimed  Zillah,  tears  starting 
to  her  eyes. 

"  Don't  think  me  hard-hearted  or  wanting 
in  love  for  them, ' '  Don  returned  with  feeling  ; 
"  but  the  truth  is  I  don't  know  how  to  endure 
life  here  now  that  Fan's  gone.  I  miss  her  at 
every  turn.  I  think  it  would  be  different  in 
a  new  place  where  I  had  not  been  accustomed 
to  her  sweet  society. ' '  His  words  were  almost 
inaudible  from  emotion  as  he  concluded. 

"  I  know,' '  Zillah  said  in  trembling  tones  ;. 
"  we  all  miss  her  sadly,  but  I  suppose  it  must 
be  harder,  perhaps,  for  you  than  any  of  the 
rest.  Still  you  will  soon  grow  in  a  measure 
used  to  it,  no  doubt.  I  have  always  heard 
that  time  assuages  the  bitterness  of  grief." 

"  I  can't  believe  it,  I  don't  believe  it  1'* 
he  cried  impatiently  ;  "at  least  I  am  sure  it 
will  not  be  so  in  my  case  for  years,  unless  I  can 
get  away  into  new  scenes  that  will  help  me  to 
f  orgetf ulness. " 

At  that  instant  Stuart,  who  had  got  down 
from  his  mother's  lap  to  play  about  the  roomr 


114  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

tripped  and  fell  to  the  floor,  striking  his  head 
against  a  chair. 

He  set  up  a  loud  scream,  and  Zillah  ran 
to  the  rescue,  picking  him  up  with  a  cry  of 
"  Oh,  poor  darling,  mamma  is  so  sorry  !  oh,  it 
is  just  dreadful  how  many  falls  he  gets  !  But 
there,  never  mind  ;  it  was  a  naughty  chair 
that  hurt  my  baby  so.  "We'll  give  it  a  good 
whipping,"  striking  it  with  her  hand  several 
times  as  she  spoke. 

Stuart  ceased  screaming  to  pound  the 
chair  energetically  with  his  tiny  doubled-up 
fist,  then  consented  to  be  bribed  into  quiet 
with  another  piece  of  candy. 

Zillah  sat  down  again  with  him  on  her  lap, 
and  presently  he  dropped  asleep  there. 

"  He  ought  to  be  in  bed,"  remarked  Don. 

"  Yes  ;  but  he  didn't  want  to  go,  and  I  do 
so  hate  to  have  a  battle  with  him.'' 

"  I  rather  think  it  will  have  to  come  to 
that  sooner  or  later,"  said  Don,  "and  I 
should  think  the  longer  you  put  it  off  the 
harder  it  will  be.  I've  been  at  Milly's  a  good 
deal  the  last  few  weeks,  besides  watching  her 
when  she  was  at  home  with  us,  and  I  think  she 
could  give  you  some  valuable  hints  about 
managing  a  child." 

"  It  is  a  vast  deal  easier  to  talk  than  to  act, 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  115 

1  can  tell  you,  Don,"  wasZillah's  half -offend 
ed  retort. 

"  I  dare  say  ;  but  people  can  act  as  well  as 
talk  ;  father  and  mother  did  with  us — we- 
always  had  to  obey,  and  that  without  being 
petted  and  wheedled  into  it — and  Milly  does 
too." 

"  I  think  it's  a  great  deal  better  to  coax 
than  to  beat  them,"  Zillah  said  half  angrily. 

"  Circumstances  alter  cases,"  said  Don, 
"  I  don't  think  it's  just  the  thing  to  pet  and 
fondle  a  child,  and  tell  him  he's  '  a  darling  ; 
there  never  was  such  a  boy,'  and  all  that, 
when  he's  kicking  up  a  row  just  because  he 
isn't  allowed  to  do  exactly  as  he  pleases. 
Percy  began  that  very  behavior  the  other 
evening  when  he  had  to  go  into  the  house  be 
fore  he  considered  it  quite  time. ' ' 

"  Well,  what  did  Milly  do  with  him  ?"  in 
quired  Zillah,  with  some  curiosity. 

"  She  first  told  him  firmly  and  quietly  that 
he  must  stop  screaming  on  the  instant,  or  she 
would  shut  him  into  a  room  by  himself  till  he 
was  ready  to  be  good  ;  and  as  she  always 
keeps  her  word,  not  threatening  over  and  over 
again  before  she  acts,  as  some  people  do,  he 
did  stop  promptly  ;  then  she  took  him  on  her 
lap  and  amused  him  with  stories  and  rhymes 


116  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

a  lilile  while,  when  she  carried  him  off  to 
bed. 

"  She's  always  gentle  with  him,  but  firm 
as  a  rock  ;  as  regular  as  clock-work  too  ;  he's 
put  to  bed  when  the  hour  comes,  and  left 
there  to  go  to  sleep  by  himself,  and  he  does 
it  without  a  whimper." 

"  1  suppose  that's  the  orthodox  way,"  said 
Zillah,  "  but  I  can't  bear  to  force  Stuart  to 
bed  when  he  cries  to  stay  up.  The  sweet 
darling,  I  do  love  him  so  !"  bending  down 
to  kiss  the  round  rosy  cheek. 

"I've  no  doubt  you  do,"  said  Don; 
"  but  I  remember  to  have  heard  mother  say  it 
was  but  a  poor  selfish  kind  of  love  that  couldn't 
bear  the  pain  of  controlling  a  child  for  its  own 
good,  but  would  rather  let  it  become  so  wilful 
and  ill-behaved  as  to  be  a  torment  to  itself  and 
everybody  else.  Ah,  here  comes  Wallace," 
he  added,  glancing  from  the  window. 

"Then  I'll  leave  you  to  have  your  talk 
with  him  while  I  put  this  boy  to  bed,"  re 
turned  Zillah,  rising  and  leaving  the  room. 

Wallace  was  no  sooner  seated  than  Don 
made  known  his  errand. 

Wallace  looked  grave.  ' '  I  don' t  like  the 
idea,  Don,"  he  said.  "  I  wish  you  could  be 
persuaded  to  give  it  up.  If  you  should  be  un- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  HT 

successful,  of  which  there  are  ten  chances  to- 
one,  it  would  involve  the  loss  of  some  of  the 
best  years  of  your  life." 

"  One  must  take  a  risk  in  anything  one 
tries,"  interrupted  Don,  impatiently. 

"  True,"  replied  Wallace,  "  but  in  this 
more  than  in  many  others. ' ' 

"'Nothing    venture,    nothing    have,'' 
muttered  Don. 

' '  1  thought  you  were  to  go  to  college  in 
the  fall,"  remarked  "Wallace. 

* '  That  has  been  father' s  plan  for  me,  but 
as  1  have  no  fancy  for  a  profession,  I  think  a 
college  course  would  be  almost  time  thrown 
away — money  too.  Ru  has  proposed  to 
make  a  druggist  of  me,  but  that  isn't  to  my 
fancy  either." 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  in  with  Ru,  if  you 
are  determined  not  to  take  a  collegiate  educa 
tion.  I  can  see  that  he,  poor  fellow,  is  sadly 
overworked,  and  to  have  a  brother  in  with, 
him — one  whom  he  could  trust — would  doubt 
less  prove  a  great  relief." 

"  Ru  hasn't  seemed  well  of  late,"  assent 
ed  Don  in  a  reflective  tone,  "  but  I  was  lay 
ing  it  all  to — to  grief.  "Wallace,  the  house: 
isn't  what  it  used  to  be.  I've  thought  1 
couldn't  stand  it.  I've  been  a  selfish  dog, 


118  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

but  I'll  try  to  forget  self  and  think  of  other 
people.  Good-evening.  I  promised  mother 
I'd  be  back  soon,"  he  added,  as  he  rose  and 
took  his  departure. 

His  heart  was  filled  with  grief  and  disap 
pointment  ;  he  crossed  the  street  slowly,  with 
head  bent  and  eyes  on  the  ground,  battling 
earnestly  with  himself,  striving  to  put  aside 
his  own  inclinations  for  the  sake  of  others. 

He  found  the  family  still  gathered  in  the 
sitting-room,  Dr.  Landreth  and  Mildred  with 
them. 

As  he  entered  the  doctor  was  saying  to 
Rupert,  "  I  have  been  considering  your  ob 
jections  to  my  plans  for  you,  and  think  I  can 
•see  a  way  out  of  the  difficulty  in  regard  to 
leaving  your  business. " 

"What  is  that  ?"  Rupert  asked,  and  Don, 
aroused  to  eager  interest,  dropped  into  a  chair 
and  listened  for  the  doctor's  explanation  with 
bated  breath.  "  Could  it  be  that  Rupert  was 
going  from  home  ?  and  if  so,  where  ?  and 
what  difference  might  it  make  in  his  own 
plans  ?' ' 

"Simply  this,"  returned  Dr.  Landreth, 
with  his  genial  smile,  ' '  that  1  will  take  charge 
of  it  and  carry  it  on  for  you,  if  that  arrange 
ment  seems  to  you  entirely  satisfactory." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  119 

"  A  most  generous  offer,  Charlie  !"  ex 
claimed  Rupert,  flushing  with  surprise  and 
gratitude,  "  but  would  it  not  interfere  with 
your  professional  duties  ?" 

' '  No  ;  not  necessarily.  I  should  merely 
take  the  oversight,  keeping  the  good  clerk  you 
have,  and  getting  another  equally  competent 
— the  two  to  do  the  work  between  them." 

"Many  thanks,"  said  Rupert,  grasping 
iii  s  brother-in-law's  hand  ;  "you  have  remov 
ed  my  greatest  difficulty.  I  begin  to  think  1 
can  follow  out  your  prescriptions,  if ' — and  he 
turned  smilingly  to  Don — "  if  Don  is  as 
ready  to  sacrifice  himself  for  my  sake." 

"  I  hope  so,  Ru  ;  what  is  it  ?"  the  boy 
asked,  a  trifle  huskily,  for  his  momentary 
gleam  of  hope  died  out  at  the  question. 

It  shone  out  with  tenfold  brilliancy  at  his 
brother's  reply.  "  Charlie  thinks  I  am  in 
danger  of  permanent  loss  of  health  unless  1 
give  up  my  business  for  a  time,  and  have  an 
entire  change  of  scene  ;  so  he  advises  me  to 
join  the  party  about  starting  for  California. 
He  thinks  the  journey  across  the  plains  just 
the  thing  for  me.  But  I  ought  to  have  some 
friend — say  a  brother — with  me  ;  so  it  may 
-depend  upon  your  willingness  to  go." 

"My     willingness?"      interrupted    Don. 


120  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

eagerly;  "  I'd  be  delighted,  Ru,  and  do  the 
very  best  for  you  that  I  know  how." 

The  mother  was  regarding  them  with  glis 
tening  eyes,  her  lips  quivering  with  emotion. 

"  And  let  him  give  you  the  care  and  over 
sight  an  elder  brother  should  ?"  asked  the 
father  gravely. 

"  Yes,  if  he  doesn't  try  to  exert  more 
than  his  rightful  share  of  authority,"  returned 
Don,  a  slight  reluctance  perceptible  in  his 
tone. 

"  On  that  condition  your  mother  and  I 
consent  to  your  going,"  Mr.  Keith  said, 
"  though,  my  boy,  it  will  be  hard  indeed  for 
us  to  part  with  you  our  youngest  son." 

Don  saw  the  tears  in  his  mother's  eyes> 
noted  that  his  father's  tones  were  not  quite 
steady,  and  his  heart  went  out  in  love  to  both. 
"I  will  never,  never  do  anything  to  cause 
them  shame  or  grief  on  my  account, ' '  was  the 
firm  resolve  he  whispered  to  himself. 

There  was  necessity  for  speedy  decision r 
and  it  was  arrived  at  within  twenty-four  hours. 
The  young  men  were  to  go.  The  allotted 
time  was  short  for  needed  preparation,  par 
ticularly  that  which  fell  to  the  mother's  share  j 
but  her  three  remaining  daughters  and  Miss 
Stanhope  coming  to  her  assistance,  and  all 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  121 

working  with  a  will,  the  thing  was  done  well 
and  in  season  ;  nothing  forgotten,  nothing 
overlooked  that  could  add  to  the  comfort  of 
the  loved  travellers. 

And  it  was  well  for  all  that  matters  were 
so  hurried,  leaving  no  leisure  for  sad  forebod 
ings  or  unavailing  regrets. 

The  parting  was  a  hard  one,  almost  hard 
er,  the  mother  thought,  than  the  last  she  had 
been  called  to  pass  through  ;  for  while  her 
beloved  Fan  was  safe  from  all  sin,  and  sorrow, 
and  suffering,  these  dear  ones  were  to  be  ex 
posed  to  many  dangers  and  temptations. 

But  she  bore  up  wonderfully  as  she  bade 
them  adieu  and  watched  the  slow-moving  train 
out  of  sight ;  they  were  not  going  beyond  the 
reach  of  prayer  ;  they  would  still  be  under 
the  protecting  care  of  Him  who  has  said, 
*'  Behold,  I  am  with  thee,  and  will  keep  thee 
in  all  places  whither  thou  goest,  and  will 
bring  thee  again  into  this  land  ;  for  I  will 
not  leave  thee,  until  I  have  done  that  which  I 
have  spoken  to  thee  of." 

"  Wherever  they  might  be,  He  would 
«over  their  defenceless  heads  with  the  shadow 
of  His  wing." 

Annis's  tears  fell  much  longer  and  faster 
than  her  mother's  ;  the  letter  she  wrote  to 


122  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Elsie,  giving  a  graphic  account  of  the  prepara 
tions  and  departure,  was  all  blistered  with 
them,  even  more  so  than  the  one  telling  of 
Fan's  last  hours. 

"  I  am  the  only  child  left  at  home  now," 
she  wrote.  "  That  was  what  mother  said 
when  we  got  back  from  seeing  the  long  train 
of  wagons,  with  their  ox-teams,  starting  on  that 
long,  dangerous  journey.  She  took  me  in  her 
arms,  and  cried  over  me  for  a  few  minutes  ; 
then  she  wiped  away  her  tears,  and  kissed  me 
over  and  over,  saying,  '  But  we  won' t  murmury 
darling,  or  make  ourselves  unhappy  about  it  ; 
for  they  are  all  in  God's  good  keeping,  and 
one  day,  I  trust,  we  shall  all  meet  in  that  better 
land  where  partings  are  unknown.' 

"  And  I  have  great  reason  to  be  thankful 
that  Mildred  and  Zillah  are  so  near  us  ;  it  is 
almost  as  if  they  were  still  at  home." 

The  letter  wound  up  with  an  earnest  re 
quest  to  Elsie  that  she  would  pray  daily  for 
the  safe  return  of  Kupert  and  Don. 


"  A  child  left  to  himself  bringeth  his  mother  to  shame." — PROT. 
*» :  15. 

MAT  had  come  again,  waking  the  flowers 
with  her  sunny  skies  and  balmy  breath,  and 
our  friends  at  Pleasant  Plains  spent  much  of 
their  time  in  their  gardens.  Delighting  in 
each  other's  society  they  were  often  together, 
now  in  Mr.  Keith's  grounds,  now  in  Dr. 
Landreth's,  and  anon  in  Wallace  Ormsby's. 

Mrs.  Keith  missed  her  sons,  who  had  al 
ways  relieved  her  of  the  heavy  part  of  the 
work  of  cultivating  the  flowers  she  so  loved, 
but  their  place  was  filled,  so  far  as  that  was 
concerned,  by  a  hired  gardener,  and  she 
found  herself  better  able  to  endure  the  ab 
sence  of  Rupert  and  Don  out  of  doors  than 
in,  especially  when  her  daughters  and  baby 
grandsons  were  her  companions. 

Mildred  took  great  pleasure  in  the  laying 
out  and  improvement  of  the  comparatively  ex 
tensive  grounds  about  her  new  home,  and  hus- 


124  > MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

band,  mother,  aunt,  and  sisters  entered  heart 
ily  into  her  plans,  helping  with  advice  and 
suggestions,  sometimes  followed,  sometimes 
not,  but  always  appreciated  as  evidence  of 
their  affectionate  interests. 

As  for  her  husband,  she  and  all  her  doings 
were  altogether  perfect  in  his  eyes.  She  wa& 
queen  of  his  small  realm,  and  could  do  no- 
wrong  ;  she  excelled  every  other  woman  as 
wife,  mother,  and  housekeeper  ;  her  taste  was 
beyond  criticism,  and  whatever  she  desired 
must  be  done. 

He  was  nearly  as  great  a  paragon  in  her 
eyes,  except  as  regarded  the  training  of  their 
child,  to  whom  he  would  have  shown  unlimit 
ed  indulgence,  if  she  could  have  seen  it  with 
out  remonstrance.  That  she  could  not, 
knowing  how  ruinous  it  would  be  ;  but  her 
disapproval  was  never  manifested  before 
Percy.  She  would  not  have  him  know  or 
suspect  that  his  parents  differed  in  regard  to 
his  training. 

And,  indeed,  it  was  only  when  she  and 
Charlie  were  quite  alone  that  she  addressed 
him  on  the  subject  ;  never  then  in  an  unkind, 
fault-finding  way,  but  with  gentle  persuasion 
and  arguments  drawn  from  observation  and 
the  teachings  of  Scripture. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  125 

Loving  the  child  with  an  affection  even 
deeper  and  tenderer  than  his,  she  was  yet 
much  more  disposed  to  curb  and  restrain 
where  she  saw  it  to  be  for  his  good  ;  her  sense 
of  parental  responsibility  was  far  stronger  than 
the  father's,  and  while  he  looked  upon  Percy 
as,  for  the  present  at  least,  scarcely  more  than 
a  pretty  pet  and  plaything,  she  regarded  the 
child  as  a  sacred  trust,  a  little  immortal  whose 
welfare  for  time  and  eternity  might  depend 
largely  upon  her  f aithfulness  in  right  training 
and  teaching. 

"  My  dear  Milly,  he  is  so  young,  such  a 
mere  baby, ' '  the  doctor  would  sometimes  say, 
"  that  it  can't  do  him  much  harm  to  get  his 
own  way  for  a  while  ;  it  will  be  time  enough 
a  year  or  two  hence  to  begin  his  educa 
tion." 

"A  very  great  mistake,"  Mildred  would 
answer  gravely  ;  "  I  have  had  a  good  deal  to 
do  with  young  children,  and  am  convinced 
that  a  child's  education  begins  as  soon  as  it 
knows  its  mother's  voice  and  can  note  the 
changing  expression  of  her  countenance. 
And,  Charlie,  it  is  far  easier  to  learn  than  to 
unlearn  ;  if  we  let  our  child  acquire  bad  habits 
at  the  start  it  will  be  a  far  more  difficult  task 
to  break  them  up  and  substitute  good  ones, 


126  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

than  to  train  him  to  such  in  the  very  begin 
ning." 

Zillah  was  quite  as  devoted  a  wife  and 
competent  a  housekeeper  as  her  older  sister, 
but  not  so  wise  and  faithful  a  mother.  No 
child  was  more  comfortably  or  tastefully  clad 
than  hers,  or  had  more  tender  caresses  lavish 
ed  upon  it  ;  she  meant  also  to  take  proper 
care  of  his  bodily  health,  and  was  quite  re 
solved  in  the  long  run  to  train  him  up  in  the 
way  he  should  go  ;  she  wanted  him  to  grow 
up  a  good  man  and  a  strong  and  healthy  one, 
but  in  the  mean  time  was  often  weakly  indul 
gent,  to  the  damage  of  both  his  physical  and 
moral  natures. 

The  two  sisters,  taking  work  and  babies 
along,  were  spending  a  sociable  afternoon  with 
their  mother. 

The  little  boys,  playing  about  the  room, 
met  with  an  occasional  mishap. 

Percy  tripped  on  the  carpet  and  fell,  strik 
ing  his  head  against  the  leg  of  the  table. 

He  burst  into  a  cry,  and  Annis,  running 
to  pick  him  up,  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  the  poor 
little  dear  !  that  did  hurt  him,  I  know." 

Bat  Mildred,  taking  him  from  her,  said  in 
a  sprightly  tone,  "  Oh,  he's  mother's  soldier 
boy  ;  he  isn't  going  to  cry  for  a  trifle.  But 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  127 

•what  a  blow  the  table  got !  poor  table  !"  and 
she  bent  down  and  stroked  and  patted  it  pity 
ingly. 

Percy  stopped  crying  to  echo  her  words 
and  imitate  her  action.  "  Percy  didn't  doe 
to  hurt  oo,"  he  went  on  ;  "  Percy  tiss  the 
p'ace  and  mate  it  well,"  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word. 

Then  his  mother  having  dried  his  eyes 
and  given  him  a  kiss,  he  went  back  to  his  play. 

Zillah  had  watched  the  little  scene  with 
interest. 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  do?"  she  said  to 
Mildred.  "  Don  told  me  that  was  your  way, 
and  I  believe,  as  he  says,  it  is  better  than, 
mine." 

"  What  is  yours  ?"  asked  Mildred,  resum 
ing  the  sewing  she  had  dropped  on  Percy's 
fall. 

"  Oh,  I've  always  made  a  fuss  over  my 
boy' s  hurts,  pitied  him,  and  blamed  the  chair, 
or  table,  or  whatever  he  had  struck  against,  for 
hurting  him,  and  have  pretended  to  punish 
it,  just  to  take  his  attention  from  his  hurt  and 
so  stop  his  crying." 

"  Are  you  not  afraid  of  teaching  him  to 
be  selfish  and  revengeful  ?"  Mildred  asked, 
with  a  look  of  grave  concern. 


128  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

1 '  I  never  thought  of  that,  and  am  afraid  it 
may,"  said  Zillah  frankly.  "  I  shall  not  do 
BO  any  more." 

Annis  was  laying  herself  out  for  the  enter 
tainment  of  her  little  nephews.  Presently  she 
came  with  a  request.  ' '  The  boys  want  me  to 
take  them  out  to  the  garden  to  play  horse. 
May  I?" 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  Percy's  going," 
said  Mildred  ;  "  the  fresh  air  will  be  very 
good  for  him,  I  think,  as  well  as  the  exer 
cise.  " 

"  But  I  don't  want  Stuart  to  go,"  Zillah 
said  ;  "  he  has  a  bad  cold,  and  ought  to  be  kept 
in  the  house.  Slip  away  from  him  if  you  can, 
Annis,  for  if  he  sees  you  and  Percy  start  out 
he'll  scream  himself  sick.  Or  if  not  himself, 
other  people, ' '  she  added  with  a  laugh. 

"I'll  do  my  best,  but  you  will  have  to  en 
gage  his  attention  for  a  while,"  said  Annis. 
"  Yes.  Stuart,  come  here  ;  mamma  wants 
to  speak  to  you." 

"  No  ;  me's  doin'  out  ;  p'ay  horse  wis 
Percy,''  the  child  returned,  with  a  scowl  and  a 
shake  of  his  little  shoulders. 

Zillah  put  down  her  sewing,  rose,  and 
went  to  him.  "  Come  with  mamma,  pet," 
she  said  in  coaxing  tones,  stooping  down  to 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  129 

caress  and  fondle  him.  "  Don't  you  want  to 
go  out  to  the  kitchen  and  see  what  Celestia 
Ann  is  doing  ?" 

"  No,  me  don't ;  me's  doin'  out-doors  to 
p 'ay  horse  wis  Percy,"  shouted  the  child  de 
fiantly,  quite  seeing  through  the  artifice. 

Zillah  began  to  grow  impatient.  "No, 
you  are  not,"  she  said  peremptorily;  "you 
cannot  play  out  of  doors  at  all  to-day,  because 
you  have  a  bad  cold,  and  it  would  make  you 
sick." 

"  I  will !  I  will!  I  will  /"  screamed  the 
child,  stamping  his  foot  at  her  and  clenching 
his  tiny  fist.  "  Ope  de  door  dis  minute, 
naughty  mamma.  I  will  doe  out  p'ay  horse. " 

There  was  something  comical  in  his  baby 
rage,  and  unfortunately  Zillah  could  not  re 
frain  from  laughing,  though  the  other  ladies 
looked  on  in  grave  concern. 

Her  mirth  had  not  a  happy  effect  upon  the 
little  rebel.  Bursting  from  her  grasp,  he  ran 
toward  the  door  just  closing  on  Annis  and 
Percy,  screaming  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
1 1  Let  me  doe  wis  you,  Annis  !  Ope  de  door, ' y 
pounding  on  it  with  his  fists,  then  taking  hold 
of  the  knob  and  trying  to  turn  it  for  him 
self. 

"You  bad   boy,  I'm  ashamed   of  you," 


130  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Zillah  said,  taking  his  hand,  which  he  in 
stantly  snatched  away  ;  ' '  stop  this  screaming, 
or  I'll  take  you  home." 

"No  ;  sha' n't  doe  home.  Me'sdoin'out 
p'ay  horse  wis  Percy. " 

"I  do  believe  he's  the  most  persistent 
child  I  ever  saw  or  that  ever  was  made  !"  Zil 
lah  exclaimed  with  angry  impatience,  appar 
ently  addressing  the  company  in  general.  ' '  I 
wonder  if  it  would  hurt  him  to  go  out  for  a 
little  while  if  I  wrap  him  up  well.  Do  you 
think  it  would,  mother  ?" 

' '  Perhaps  not  physically,  Zillah, ' '  Mrs. 
Keith  answered,  with  look  and  tone  of  grave 
disapproval,  "  but  morally  it  certainly  would 
have  a  very  bad  effect  ;  you  have  told  him 
positively  that  he  shall  not  go  out  to  play  to 
day,  and  if  you  break  your  word  how  can  you 
expect  him  ever  to  esteem  his  mother  a  per 
fectly  truthful  woman  ?" 

"  You  make  a  very  serious  matter  of  it, 
mother,"  Zillah  said,  reddening. 

"  It  is  a  very  serious  thing,  my  dear 
daughter,"  Mrs.  Keith  answered,  in  her  own 
sweet,  gentle  way,  and  with  a  look  of  loving 
sympathy. 

She  would  have  said  more,  but  Stuart  at 
'ihat  instant  renewed  the  screams  he  had  ceas- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  131 

ed  for  a  moment  upon  perceiving  symptoms 
of  relenting  on  his  mother's  part. 

But  Zillah  now  felt  that  for  very  shame 
she  must  remain  firm.  She  tried  the  old  plan 
of  coaxing  and  wheedling — offered  picture- 
books,  stories,  candy — but  nothing  would  do 
except  the  forbidden  pleasure,  and  at  length, 
losing  all  patience,  she  took  him  into  another 
room  and  gave  him  the  punishment  Don 
would  have  liked  to  prescribe  on  a  former  oc 
casion.  Then  she  cried  over  him  while  he 
sobbed  himself  to  sleep  in  her  arms. 

Having  laid  him  on  a  bed,  covered  him 
carefully,  and  left  a  tender  kiss  on  his  cheek, 
she  went  back  to  the  sitting-room  where  the 
others  were. 

Sitting  down  by  her  mother's  side  she 
took  up  her  sewing,  and  tried  to  go  on  with  it,, 
but  her  hands  trembled  and  tears  dimmed  her 
sight.  She  dropped  the  work  to  wipe  them 
away. 

"  O  mother,"  she  said  in  quivering  tonesr 
"  what  shall  I  do  with  that  child  ?  I  can 
never  bring  him  up  right,  as  you  have 
brought  up  all  yours. " 

"It  is  a  great  work,  dear,  to  train  up  a 
child  in  the  way  he  should  go,"  Mrs.  Keith 
answered  in  sympathizing  tones  ;  "  and  the 


132  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

wisest  of  us  may  well  ask,  '  Who  is  sufficient 
for  these  things  ? '  yet  rejoice  and  take  cour 
age  in  the  assurance  that  '  our  sufficiency  is  of 
God.'  Do  not  forget  His  gracious  promise, 
'  If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of 
God,  that  giveth  to  all  men  liberally,  and  up- 
braideth  not  ;  and  it  shall  be  given  him. ' 

"  Whatever  success  I  may  have  had  in 
bringing  up  my  children  aright  has  been  given 
me  in  answer  to  prayer  and  in  fulfilment  of 
that  promise." 

"  I  love  him  so  dearly  I  can  hardly  bear 
to  refuse  him  anything,"  sighed  Zillah>  wip 
ing  her  eyes  and  resuming  her  work. 

l(  I  hope,  daughter,  that  you  love  him 
well  enough  to  give  yourself  the  pain  of  refus 
ing  him  hurtful  indulgences,"  was  her 
mother's  grave  response.  "  It  often  requires 
deeper,  truer  love  to  deny  than  to  grant,  to 
punish  than  to  let  slip  ;  but  '  a  child  left  to 
himself  bringeth  his  mother  to  shame. '  " 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  know  that  is  Bible  truth, 
and  I  do  not  intend  to  leave  mine  to  himself. 
I  do  really  earnestly  desire  to  bring  him  up 
for  God  and  heaven,  faulty  as  my  training 
has  been,  1  fear,  thus  far.  But  he  is  so  young 
yet ;  it  seems  so  hard  to  discipline  such  a  mere 
baby." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  133 

"  I  know  it  does,  my  dear  child — 1  have 
not  forgotten  my  own  experience — but  I  as 
sure  you  you  will  spare  much  suffering  to  both 
him  and  yourself  by  beginning  early  the  lesson 
that  parental  authority  is  to  be  respected,  and 
prompt  and  cheerful  obedience  rendered. 

"  Be  very  gentle  with  him,  giving  your 
directions  in  the  form  of  requests  rather  than 
commands,  unless  it  becomes  necessary  to 
order  him.  1  think  children  should  be  treated 
with  consideration  and  politeness  as  well  as 
grown  people  ;  it  is  the  best  way  to  teach  them 
to  be  polite  and  considerate  toward  others. " 

"  It  was  your  way  of  teaching  us,  mother, n 
remarked  Mildred,  with  an  affectionate,  smil 
ing  glance  into  her  mother's  sweet,  placid 
face. 

"  And  a  very  effectual  one  it  has  proved 
in  their  case,"  remarked  Miss  Stanhope. 

"  I  think  it  has,"  said  Mrs.  Keith  ;  then 
went  on  :  "  There  is  another  thing,  my 
two  dear  daughters,  that  I  wish  to  impress 
upon  you  :  it  is  the  paramount  importance  of 
always  keeping  your  word  with  your  children. 
Try  not  to  make  hasty  promises  or  threats, 
which  you  may  regret  having  to  carry  out ; 
but  having  once  passed  your  word,  let  nothing 
induce  you  to  be  false  to  it. 


134  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  I  need  scarcely  urge  upon  you  the  im 
portance  of  being  always  entirely  truthful  with 
them,  since  you  know  how  severely  the  Script 
ures  condemn  any,  even  the  slightest,  depart 
ure  from  truth." 

"  I  should  hope  not,  indeed,  mother,"  said 
Zillah.  "  1  know  I  have  not  always  been 
firm  with  my  boy,  have  sometimes  let  him 
gain  his  wishes — which  I  have  at  first  denied — 
by  persistent  fretting  and  crying,  and  have 
often  too  coaxed  when  I  ought  to  have  de 
manded  obedience  ;  but  I  have  never  tried  to 
secure  his  obedience  by  deceiving  or  telling 
him  what  was  not  true. ' ' 

"It  is  surprising  what  very  lax  ideas 
many  persons — yes,  even  some  who  profess 
to  be  Christians — have  in  regard  to  that 
thing,"  remarked  Miss  Stanhope.  "  Shrink 
ing  from  the  exertion  or  the  pain  of  enforcing 
obedience  by  legitimate  means,  they  resort  to 
subterfuge,  prevarication,  or  even  downright 
falsehood. 

"  I  have  heard  a  mother  say  to  her  refrac 
tory  or  crying  child,  '  If  you  don't  come  into 
the  house  now  a  big  black  bear  will  catch 
you  ; '  or,  '  If  you  don't  stop  that  screaming 
a  dog  will  come  and  bite  you.' 

"  Besides  that,  they  will  utter  threats  they 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  135 

have  not  the  remotest  intention  of  carrying 
out,  a  fact  which  the  little  ones  are  not  slow 
to  discover  and  act  upon." 

At  this  point  the  conversation  was  inter 
rupted  by  a  call  from  two  neighbors.  It 
was  of  unfashionable  length,  and  the  talk  ran 
principally  upon  housekeeping,  children,  and 
servants. 

One  of  the  callers,  an  elderly  lady,  had 
several  little  anecdotes  to  tell  of  the  smart 
sayings  and  doings  of  her  grandchildren  ;  one 
of  them  so  aptly  illustrating  Miss  Stanhope's 
recent  remarks  that  Mildred  and  Zillah  could 
not  refrain  from  a  furtive  exchange  of  signifi 
cant  glances.  This  was  the  narrative  that 
drew  them  forth. 

"  Two  of  my  grandchildren  were  staying 
at  our  house  last  week — Mary  Bronson,  my 
son's  daughter — she's  ten  years  old — and 
Tommy  Linn,  rny  oldest  daughter's  child, 
he's  about  five,  and  has  a  great  notion  of  being 
a  man  ;  he's  out  of  petticoats  now,  and  you 
couldn't  punish  him  worse  than  by  making 
him  put  them  on  again. 

"  Well,  the  second  night  he  was  with  us 
I  was  in  a  quandary.  His  night-gown  had 
been  hung  out  to  air,  and  a  shower  had  come 
up  and  made  it  soaking  wet,  for  you  see 


136  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

nobody  had  thought  to  bring  it  in,  and  his 
mother  had  sent  only  one. 

"  When  Tommy  saw  the  condition  it  was 
in  he  spoke  right  up  :  '  Grandmother,  don't 
you  give  me  a  girl's  night-gown,  'cause  1 
eha'n't  wear  it.  1  want  to  have  a  man's.' 

' '  '  Yes, '  I  said,  '  so  you  shall.  Mary, 
you  go  and  get  one  of  his  Uncle  Sam's  for 
him. '  Then  I  whispered  to  her,  '  Bring  one 
of  yours.' 

"  So  she  brought  it,  and  as  T  shook  it  out 
Tommy  looked  at  it  very  suspiciously.  '  Is 
that  a  man's  ? '  he  says. 

"  '  Yes,'  says  I,  '  it's  one  of  your  Uncle 
Sam's. '  So  he  let  me  put  it  on  him,  and  went 
off  to  sleep  as  quiet  and  contented  as  could 
be." 

"  But  do  you  think  it  was  right  ?"  asked 
Miss  Stanhope  in  a  tone  of  gentle  remon 
strance.  ' l  It  was  not  the  truth  you  told  the 
child." 

"No,"  acknowledged  Mrs.  Bronson  re 
luctantly,  ' '  but  what  is  a  body  to  do  ?  You 
have  to  manage  children  somehow,  and  if  I 
hadn't  deceived  him,  there'd  have  been  a  reg 
ular  battle.  What  would  you  have  done  in 
my  place  ?" 

"  Anything,  I  hope,  rather  than  tell  an  un- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  137 

truth  to  one  child  and  give  a  lesson  in  false 
hood  and  deception  to  the  other.  Excuse  an 
old  woman's  plain  speaking,  but  how  can  you 
ever  tell  that  little  Mary  that  lying  is  a  great 
sin — a  sin  that  must  cost  the  loss  of  the  soul 
if  unrepented  of  and  unforsaken  ?  or  how 
blame  her  if  she,  at  some  future  day,  puts  your 
lesson  in  practice  to  deceive  you,  perchance 
in  some  matter  of  vital  importance  to  you  or 
herself?" 

There  was  silence  in  the  room  for  some 
moments,  while  Mrs.  Bronson  sat  looking  ex 
tremely  uncomfortable  ;  then  she  said,  with 
an  attempt  to  speak  lightly,  "  You  make  a 
very  serious  matter  of  it,  Miss  Stanhope." 

"  It  is  a  serious  matter,"  returned  Aunt 
Wealthy,  "  as  I  am  sure  you  will  acknowl 
edge  upon  thoughtful  consideration.  I  am 
sorry  to  cause  you  mental  disquiet,  but  '  faith 
ful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend, '  the  wise  man 
says." 

"  That  is  true,  and  I  dare  say  you  are 
right.  I  shall  think  over  what  you  have  been 
saying,"  Mrs.  Bronson  returned,  rising  to 
take  leave. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it  all  ?"  she  ask 
ed  her  companion  as  they  left  the  house. 

"I'm    afraid   the    old    lady    was    right, 


138  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Sarah,  though  I  own  I  never  thought  of  it  in 
that  light  before — telling  fibs  to  children  to 
keep  them  from  misbehaving,  I  mean.  I've 
done  it  occasionally  myself,  but  I  don't  think 
I  ever  shall  again.  As  she  said,  how  can  we 
expect  them  to  speak  the  truth  if  we  are  not 
always  careful  to  do  it  ourselves  ?" 

"Annis,"  Mildred  called  to  her  sister, 
1 '  please  bring  Percy  in  now  ;  it  is  growing 
too  late  for  him  to  be  out." 

"  He  doesn't  want  to  come,"  was  the  an 
swer  ;  "  can't  he  stay  out  a  little  longer  ?" 

"  No  ;  the  sun  is  near  setting,  and  the  air 
is  growing  quite  cold,"  Mildred  answered, 
running  down  into  the  garden  and  taking  her 
little  boy  by  the  hand.  "  Come,  son,  we 
must  go  in  now,  for  mamma  does  not  want 
her  dear  baby  to  get  sick. ' ' 

"  No  ;  won't  get  sick,"  he  asserted  in  the 
most  positive  manner.  "P'ease,  mamma,  let 
Percy  tay  wee  'ittle  bit  longer." 

11  No,  darling  ;  but  if  it  is  a  good  day  to 
morrow  you  shall  have  a  nice  long  play  and 
a  drive  in  the  carriage  with  papa  and  mamma, 
beside." 

She  was  leading  him  gently  on  toward  the 
house  while  she  spoke.  The  <sJuJd  did  not 
resist,  but  he  set  up  a  loud  wail. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  139 

"  My  little  boy  must  not  be  naughty," 
Mildred  said,  in  a  gently  reproving  tone. 

Still  the  crying  continued,  and  indeed  in 
creased  in  violence  as  she  led  him  over  the 
threshold  into  the  hall.  There  she  stopped, 
and  stooping  down  to  take  off  his  out-door 
garments,  "Percy,"  she  said  firmly,  "  you 
must  stop  this  noise  at  once.  Mamma  is  very 
sorry  her  little  boy  is  so  naughty.  Now  be 
good,  and  we  will  go  into  the  parlor  to  see 
dear  grandma  and  the  rest,  and  you  may  get 
up  on  a  chair  by  the  window  and  watch  for 
grandpa,  and  papa,  and  Uncle  Wallace  to  come 
to  supper.  They'll  be  coming  pretty  soon, 
and  then  we  will  have  our  supper,  and  after 
that  Percy  shall  go  to  his  nice  little  bed." 

Being  of  a  pleasant  disposition,  and  having 
already  learned  by  experience  that  nothing 
was  ever  gained  from  his  mother  by  fretting, 
crying,  or  teasing,  the  little  fellow  presently 
ceased  his  wailing,  allowed  her  to  dry  his 
eyes,  gave  her  a  kiss  and  a  promise  to  be  good, 
and  was  so  for  the  rest  of  his  stay  at  his  grand 
father's. 

Zillah  had  watched  the  little  scene  with  in 
terest,  and  had  not  failed  to  note  the  fact  that 
Don's  report  of  Mildred's  management  was 
correct  ;  that  she  did  not  caress  and  fondle 


140  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

her  child  while  he  was  misbehaving,  but  treat  - 
ed  him  in  a  way  to  make  it  evident  to  him 
that  his  conduct  was  displeasing  to  her. 

At  the  tea-table  there  was  again  an  illus 
tration  of  the  difference  in  the  training  the 
two  children  were  receiving.  Percy  was 
given  only  plain,  wholesome  food  suited  to 
his  infant  years.  Stuart,  refusing  to  be  con 
tent  with  that,  was  permitted  to  eat  cake,  pre 
serves,  meat — in  fact,  everything  upon  the  table 
to  which  he  chose  to  take  a  fancy. 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  feed  your  child  ?" 
the  doctor  asked  in  a  tone  of  surprise  quite 
unmingled  with  approval. 

"Yes,"  replied  "Wallace  carelessly,  "he 
eats  whatever  we  do  ;  we  let  him  have  any 
thing  on  the  table  that  he  fancies.  You  don't 
think  it  the  best  plan,  I  see." 

"  No  ;  unless  your  object  is  to  make  an 
invalid  of  him." 

"I  couldn't  bear  to  eat  dainties  without 
giving  my  child  a  share  !"  exclaimed  Zillah 
with  some  heat.  "  And  it  never  hurts  him." 

"1  think  you  are  mistaken  there,"  said 
the  doctor  ;  "  that  such  indulgence  does  not 
immediately  result  in  violent  illness  is  no 
proof  that  it  does  no  harm.  1  am  afraid  you 
will  discover  one  day,  when  it  is  too  late,  that 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  141 

very  serious  harm  has  been  done.  There  is 
great  danger  that  his  digestive  organs  will 
give  way  under  the  great  strain  put  upon 
them,  and  if  you  do  not  lose  him,  you  will 
have  him  a  sufferer  for  life." 

Zillah  looked  startled  and  alarmed,  while 
"Wallace,  turning  to  her,  said,  "  If  that's  the 
case,  little  wife,  we  must  promptly  turn  over 
a  new  leaf  with  him.  I'm  afraid  Charlie  has 
the  right  of  it  ;  you  know  how  restless  Stuart 
is  often  at  night,  and  I  dare  say  it's  all  owing 
to  our  foolish  habit  of  indulging  him  in  eating 
rich  and  unwholesome  food." 

"  1  suppose  so  ;  I  begin  to  think  I  am  not 
fit  to  have  a  child,"  Zillah  said  half  impa 
tiently,  half  sadly,  "  for  my  management  so 
far  seems  to  have  been  all  blunders. " 

11  Live  and  learn,  daughter,"  her  father 
said  cheerily  ;  "  don't  be  disheartened,  but 
set  about  correcting  your  mistakes  as  fast  as 
possible.  1  don't  think,"  he  added,  patting 
Stuart's  head,  "that  my  namesake  grand 
son  is  quite  ruined  yet.  Do  you,  Uncle 
Charlie  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  indeed  !"  replied  the  doctor  ; 
"  he's  a  fine  little  fellow,  and  1  want  him  to 
have  a  chance  to  continue  such,  physically  as 
'well  as  otherwise." 


142  MILDRED  AT  SOME. 

"  It  shall  not  be  his  father's  fault  if  he 
doesn't,"  said  "Wallace. 

"  Nor  his  mother's,"  added  Zillah. 
* '  Wallace,  we  would  rather  live  on  very  plain 
fare  ourselves  than  have  our  boy  injured  with 
rich  living,  wouldn't  we  ?" 

11  Certainly  ;  but  perhaps  that  need  not  be 
the  only  alternative,"  he  answered,  with  a 
good-humored  smile. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  have  a  battle 
with  him  at  every  meal,"  she  said  disconso 
lately. 

"Perhaps  that  may  be  avoided  by  send 
ing  him  to  his  play  before  bringing  on  objec 
tionable  diihee,"  said  her  husband. 


ELSIE   AND    HEB   BEOTHEE. 

"  HORACE,  bring  papa  that  newspaper  that 
lies  on  the  table  yonder,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said 
to  his  little  son. 

The  child,  seated  in  his  own  little  chair  by 
his  mother's  side,  was  listlessly  turning  the 
leaves  of  a  picture-book.  Elsie  had  just  fin 
ished  her  recitations  for  the  morning,  and  was 
now  sitting  on  the  other  side  of  Rose,  taking 
a  lesson  in  fancy-work. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  had  spoken  in  a  pleasant 
tone,  rather  of  request  than  command,  yet 
Horace,  though  usually  ready  to  obey  prompt 
ly  and  cheerfully,  sat  perfectly  still,  as  if  he 
had  not  heard,  or  did  not  choose  to  heed. 

"  Horace,  do  you  hear  me  ?  Go  and 
bring  me  that  paper,' '  said  his  father ;  and 
this  time  the  tone  was  one  of  stern  command. 

The  child's  face  instantly  assumed  a  stub 
born,  sullen  expression,  while  he  neither 
moved  nor  answered. 


144  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Elsie,  pale  and  trembling  with  apprehen 
sion,  gave  him  an  entreating,  her  father  an 
imploring  look,  which  neither  seemed  to  see. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  regarding  his  son  with 
a  look  of  stern  displeasure,  and  Horace's  eyes 
were  on  his  book. 

"  Horace,  dear,  do  as  papa  bids  you,"  said 
Kose,  with  gentle  entreaty. 

"  Leave  him  to  me,  Rose,"  said  her  hus 
band  ;  "  I  have  given  the  order,  and  I  am 
the  one  to  enforce  it.  Horace,  obey  me  in 
stantly  or  I  shall  whip  you  till  you  do. ' ' 

At  that  stern  sentence  Elsie  almost  cried 
out  in  fear  and  dismay,  for  well  she  knew  her 
father's  indomitable  will,  and  she  could  per- 
ceive  that  Horace,  whom  she  so  dearly  loved, 
that  to  see  him  suffer  pain  was  far  worse  than 
to  have  it  inflicted  upon  herself,  was  just  now 
in  a  most  stubborn,  refractory  mood. 

Probably  the  state  of  the  atmosphere  had 
something  to  do  with  it,  for  it  was  a  rainy 
day,  close  and  sultry. 

"  Me  don't  want  to,"  muttered  the  little 
fellow,  making  no  movement  to  obey ;  then 
as  he  felt  a  not  very  gentle  grasp  upon  his 
arm,  "  Me  won't  !"  he  cried,  with  a  defiant 
look  upon  his  father's  face. 

Mr.    Dinsmore  instantly  administered    a 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  145 

pretty  severe  chastisement,  Rose  sitting  by 
pale  and  sad,  Elsie  with  the  tears  streaming 
over  her  cheeks. 

Horace  cried  violently,  but  still  refused 
obedience  to  the  reiterated  command,  "  Go 
and  get  that  paper  and  bring  it  to  me. ' ' 

The  punishment  was  repeated  with  added 
severity,  but  he  stubbornly  persisted  in  his  re 
fusal,  and  the  battle  went  on  till  his  mother, 
unable  to  endure  the  sight,  rose  and  left  the 
room,  and  Elsie  so  far  forgot  herself  in  her 
darling  little  brother's  pain  that  she  ran  to 
the  rescue,  threw  her  arms  about  him,  and 
tried  to  drag  him  away  from  her  father. 

"  Oh,  papa,  don't  !"  she  sobbed  ;  "  please 
don't  whip  him  any  more  !  I  cannot  bear  it. " 

"Elsie  !  how  dare  you  !"  Mr.  Dinsmore 
exclaimed,  in  astonishment  and  wrath,  put 
ting  her  forcibly  aside  as  he  spoke.  "  Leave 
the  room  instantly,"  he  added,  in  his  sternest 
tones  and  with  a  stamp  of  his  foot. 

She  let  go  her  hold  of  the  child,  but,  lin 
gering,  began  again  her  entreaty,  "  Oh,  papa> 
please — " 

"  "Will  you  compel  me  to  punish  you  in 
the  same  way  ?' '  he  said,  again  stamping  his 
foot  and  pointing  significantly  to  the  door. 

At  that  she  hastened  from  the  room  and 


146  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

sought  her  own,  crying  as  if  her  heart  would 
break. 

Horace  yielded  at  last,  when  nearly  ex 
hausted  with  the  conflict,  received  a  kiss  of 
reconciliation  from  his  father,  was  then  carried 
to  his  mother,  and  wept  himself  to  sleep  in 
her  arms,  her  tears  falling  almost  as  fast  as 
his. 

She  had  laid  him  in  his  crib  and  was  bend 
ing  over  him,  tenderly  smoothing  back  the 
damp  curls  from  his  heated  brow,  when  her 
husband  came  softly  to  her  side,  and,  putting 
his  arm  about  her  waist,  asked  in  low,  moved 
tones,  "  Do  you  blame  me,  my  Rose  ?  Do 
you  think  me  a  cruel  father  ?" 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  but 
seemed  struggling  with  emotion. 

He  sighed  deeply. 

"  I — I  think  you  were  conscientious  in  it 
all, ' '  she  said  at  length,  her  voice  tremulous 
with  feeling,  "  and  that  after  beginning  the 
conflict  it  was  necessary  for  you  to  conquer  ; 
but  I  think  the  beginning  it  was  a  sad  mis 
take." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?     What  would  you 
have  had  me  do  when  my  child  refused  to 
obey  a  command  so  simple  and  easy  to  under 
stand  and  do  ?" 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  147 

11  My  husband,"  she  said,  allowing  him  to 
lead  her  to  a  sofa,  where  they  sat  down  side 
by  side,  "  1  do  not  like  to  seem  to  try  to  teach 
you  who  are  so  much  older  and  wiser  than  I ; 
but  do  you  not  think  you  would  have  spared 
yourself  and  all  of  us  a  great  deal  of  pain  if 
instead  of  compelling  obedience  you  had  sim 
ply  punished  refusal  to  obey,  and  there  let  the 
matter  rest  ?" 

"  Would  it  have  gone  as  far  toward  secur 
ing  obedience  in  the  future  ?"  he  queried, 
rather  as  if  considering  the  question  himself 
than  asking  her  opinion. 

"  1  think  so,"  she  said.  "  Surely  a  child 
will  not  be  apt  to-  disobey  very  often  when  he 
finds  that  swift  punishment  is  always  meted 
out  in  proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  the 
offence." 

He  sat  silently  meditating  for  some  little 
time,  she  anxiously  watching  the  expression 
of  his  face. 

At  length,  turning  to  her,  "  1  believe  you 
are  right,  my  love,"  he  said,  "  and  1  shall,  if 
possible,  avoid  such  conflicts  in  the  future,  as 
you  advise,  simply  punishing  the  act  of  dis 
obedience,  or  refusal  to  obey.  To-day  that 
course  would,  as  you  have  suggested,  have 
saved  us  all  a  great  deal  of  suffering  ;  and  oh, 


148  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

what  would  it  not  have  saved  to  Elsie  and 
myself  if  put  into  practice  years  ago  !"  He 
sighed  deeply  as  he  added,  ' '  And  the  pain 
occasioned  by  this  unfortunate  conflict  is  not 
all  over  yet,  for  1  have  her  to  punish  now." 

"  Elsie  ?"  exclaimed  Rose,  looking  at  him 
in  great  surprise  ;  "  what  has  she  done  ?" 

He  told  her  what  had  occurred  just  as  she 
left  the  room  where  he  was  battling  with 
Horace,  adding,  "  1  must,  of  course,  punish 
her,  for  she  was  not  only  rebelling  against  my 
authority  herself,  but  upholding  her  brother 
in  doing  the  same." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Rose  sadly,  "  but  I 
wish  you  could  feel  it  right  and  wise  to  for 
give  her." 

' f  Not  till  I  have  inflicted  some  punish 
ment,"  he  said  ;  "  the  offence  was  quite  too 
serious  to  be  lightly  passed  over." 

"  But  you  will  not  be  severe  with  her  ?" 
Rose  said  pleadingly.  "You  know  it  was 
only  her  great  love  for  her  little  brother  that 
made  her  for  a  moment  forgetful  of  her  duty 
to  you.  And  I  am  sure  she  is  repenting  bit 
terly  now." 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  inflicting  corporal 
punishment,  if  that  is  what  you  apprehend," 
he  said  ;  "  but  I  think  I  ought  to  make  her 


MILDRED  AT  HOME. 


aware,  for  a  day  or  two  at  least,  that  she  is  in 
disgrace  with  me." 

11  1  am  so  sorry,"  sighed  Rose;  "for 
though  to  some  children  that  would  be  a  very 
slight  punishment,  1  know  that  to  her  it  will 
be  positively  dreadful." 

"  Yes,"  he  returned,  echoing  her  sigh, 
"  she  is  extravagantly  fond  of  her  father's 
caresses  and  endearments,  but  so  is  he  of 
hers,  and  I  doubt  if  the  punishment  will  be 
more  severe  to  the  one  than  to  the  other  of 
us." 

"What's  de  mattah,  chile?  What's  de 
mattah  wid  you  an'  little  inassa  ?"  Aunt 
Chloe  asked,  with  an  anxious,  troubled  look, 
as  Elsie  rushed  into  her  own  apartments  cry 
ing  very  bitterly. 

Amid  heavy  sobbing  and  floods  of  tear& 
the  little  girl  related  what  had  passed  between 
her  father  and  brother,  winding  up  with  the 
story  of  her  interference  and  its  result. 

11  Oh,  darlin'  chile,  dat  was  bad  !"  ex 
claimed  Chloe.  "  You  shouldn't  neber  do  no 
sich  ting  as  dat  !  Dat  be  bery  bad  ting  fo* 
little  massa,  what  you  been  an'  gone  an'  done. 
De  Bible  say  chillens  mus'  min'  dere  fader 
u,nd  mudder." 

Elsie  made  no  reply,  but  throwing  herself 


150  MILDRED  AT  HOME, 

on  a  couch,  half  buried  her  face  in  a  pillow  in 
the  effort  to  shut  out  the  sound  of  Horace's 
cries,  which  penetrated  even  there. 

Until  they  ceased  she  scarcely  thought  of 
anything  but  that  he  was  being  hurt ;  but 
when  all  grew  quiet  with  the  ending  of  the 
conflict,  she  was  suddenly  struck  with  the 
enormity  of  her  offence  and  the  dread  cer 
tainty  that  her  father  was  greatly  and  justly 
incensed  at  her  unwarrantable  interference  be 
tween  him  and  her  brother. 

She  was  astonished  at  her  own  temerity, 
and  trembled  at  thought  of  the  probable  con 
sequences.  That  some  sort  of  punishment 
would  be  meted  out  to  her  she  had  not  the 
slightest  doubt,  and  as  her  father  was  wont  to 
be  prompt  in  action,  she  fully  expected  a  visit 
from  him  as  soon  as  he  was  done  disciplining 
Horace. 

She  listened  with  a  quaking  heart  for  the 
sound  of  his  approaching  footsteps  ;  but  the 
minutes  and  the  hours  crept  on  and  he  came 
not. 

The  dinner-bell  rang,  and  Elsie  started  up 
full  of  perplexity  and  alarm,  doubting  whether 
she  was  or  was  not  expected  to  obey  its  sum 
mons. 

"Oh,    mammy,"    she    cried,    "I    don't 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  151 

know  what  to  do  !  I  don't  want  to  go  to  the 
table.  Please  go  and  ask  papa  if  I  may  be 
excused.  Tell  him  my  head  aches,  for  indeed 
it  does,  and  I'm  not  at  all  hungry." 

"  Co'se,  chile,  co'se  you's  got  misery  in 
de  head  after  all  dat  cry  in',"  replied  Aunt 
Chloe,  putting  down  her  knitting  to  go  and 
do  the  errand.  "  Don'  cry  no  mo',  honey  ; 
maybe  massa  forgib  you,  ef  you's  right  down 
eorry." 

"1  am  sorry,  mammy,"  sobbed  Elsie; 
"  oh,  I  am  very  sorry  ;  but  I  know  that  papa 
will  punish  me  somehow  or  other,  and  I  de 
serve  it." 

"Maybe  not,  honey,"  responded  Aunt 
Chloe  cheerfully,  then  hurried  away  to  the 
dining-room. 

She  returned  in  a  few  minutes,  bringing  a 
very  nice  meal  daintily  arranged  on  a  silver 
waiter. 

"  What  did  papa  say  ?"  asked  Elsie  anx> 
iously. 

"Not  much,  honey  ;  only,  '  Bery  well, 
Aunt  Chloe,  you  kin  take  her  something 
when  she  feels  inclined  to  eat. '  ' 

Elsie's  tears  burst  forth  afresh.  Was  it 
then  a  matter  of  indifference  to  her  father  that 
she  was  in  pain  ?  her  father,  who  was  usually 


152  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

so  full  of  loving  anxiety  a.t  the  slightest  indi 
cation  of  anything  being  amiss  with  her  ? 

"  Oh,  mammy,"  she  sobbed,  "  what  if 
papa  shouldn't  ever  love  me  any  more  !" 

"  Ki,  chile,  dat  a  heap  ob  nonsense  you's 
talkin'  now!"  laughed  Chloe.  "  Massa 
couldn't  neber  help  it ;  not  a  bit ;  you's  jes' 
de  light  ob  his  eyes.  Dere  now,  don'  cry  no 
mo',  but  jes'  eat  what  your  ole  mammy  fotch 
fo'  you." 

There  was  some  slight  and  temporary  com 
fort  in  the  assurance  her  mammy  expressed, 
and  the  little  girl  found  herself  able,  by  its 
help,  to  eat  sparingly  of  the  dainties  she  had 
brought  her. 

"  Did  papa  say  I  must  stay  in  my  rooms 
till  I  got  permission  to  leave  them  ?"  she 
agked. 

"  No,  honey,  darlin',  he  didn't  say  nuffin* 
't  all  'bout  dat ;  didn't  gib  no  corrections, 
but  jes'  'bout  gibin'  you  what  you  wants  to 
eat  when  you's  ready  fo'  it.  Dat  don'  soun' 
so  mighty  bad  fo'  yo'  case,  chile,  an'  I  re 
spects  mass' 11  be  comin'  in  'rectly  fo'  to  kiss, 
an'  make  up." 

"  No,"  Elsie  said,  shaking  her  head  and 
bursting  into  tears  again,  "  he'll  punish  me 
first  ;  I  am  quite  sure  of  that." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  153 

"  Ki,  chile  !  ef  he  gwine  fo'  to  do  dat, 
what  you  'spose  he  waitin'  fo'  ?' ' 

"I  don't  know,"  sobbed  the  little  girl; 
"  but  I'm  afraid  it  will  be  a  long  while  before 
he  will  pet  and  fondle  me  again,  or  even  give 
me  a  kind  look  or  word." 

"  Why  you  tink  dat,  honey  ?" 

"  Oh,  because  he  looked  so  stern  and 
angry  when  he  stamped  his  foot  at  me  and 
ordered  me  out  of  the  room." 

The  afternoon  passed  very  slowly  in  the 
constant  yet  vain  expectation  of  a  visit  from 
her  father  or  a  summons  to  his  presence. 
Several  times  she  was  on  the  point  of  ven 
turing  into  it  without  being  called,  but  her 
heart  failed  her  ;  she  was  not  sure  that  it 
might  not  be  looked  upon  as  an  additional 
offence  ;  he  had  sent  her  out  of  the  room 
without  saying  how  long  he  meant  her  ban 
ishment  to  last. 

Besides,  she  wanted  to  be  sure  of  seeing 
him  alone  ;  she  would  not  have  even  Rose  a 
witness  of  the  interview. 

So  she  waited  till  the  hour  when  the  latter 
would  be  engaged  in  seeing  little  Horace  put 
to  bed  for  the  night,  then  in  much  trepidation 
went  in  search  of  her  father.  She  felt  quite 
eure  of  finding  him  alone,  for  there  were  no 


154  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

guests  in  the  house,  and  as  it  was  still  storm 
ing,  there  seemed  no  danger  of  any  one  call 
ing. 

She  went  first  to  the  parlor,  which  waf 
their  principal  family  room  when  alone.  Tee, 
there  he  was,  sitting  in  an  easy-chair  by  » 
window,  his  back  toward  her,  doubtless  read 
ing,  and  quite  alone. 

She  stole  noiselessly  to  the  back  of  his 
chair,  her  heart  beating  very  fast  and  loud. 
She  almost  thought  he  must  hear  it ;  but  he 
seemed  unaware  of  her  approach,  entirely  ab 
sorbed  in  his  book. 

She  caught  hold  of  the  chair- back  to 
steady  and  support  herself,  for  she  was  trem 
bling  in  every  limb. 

"  Papa,  1 — "  she  began,  her  voice  full  of 
tears. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  you,  Miss  Dins- 
more,  except  that  I  forbid  you  to  address  me 
by  that  title  or  to  call  me  father,  or  to  take 
any  liberties  with  me  that  would  be  unsuitable 
in  a  stranger  guest  in  the  house,"  he  inter 
rupted,  in  a  freezing  tone,  without  turning 
toward  her,  and  with  his  eyes  still  upon  his 
book. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  bear  it  !  I  can't  bear  it  !" 
she  cried,  with  a  burst  of  sobs  and  tears, 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  155 

throwing  herself  at  his  feet.  "  I  know  I've 
behaved  very  badly,  but  I'm — " 

"  Get  up,"  he  said  sternly,  again  inter- 
rupting  her  ;  "  control  yourself,  or  leave  the 
room  till  you  can." 

His  look  was  as  stern  and  cold  as  his 
words. 

She  struggled  to  her  feet  and  went  back  to 
her  own  rooms,  crying  very  bitterly. 

"Oh,  mammy,  mammy,"  she  sobbed, 
"it's  even  worse  than  I  expected,  for  I'm 
forbidden  to  call  him  father  or  papa.  Oh, 
what  shall  I  do  ?  How  can  I  call  him  any 
thing  else  ?  And  I  mustn't  hug  or  kiss  him 
or  sit  on  his  knee  ;  and — and  he  called  me 
*  Miss  Dinsmore.'  Just  think  of  it!  Not 
even  Elsie,  without  the  pet  names  I  love  so  to 
hear  from  his  lips,  but  Miss  Dinsmore,  as  if  I 
were  a  stranger  he  cared  nothing  about." 

"  'Tain't  gwine  to  las'  long,  honey  dar- 
lin',  dat  ar  ain't,"  said  Chloe  soothingly,  tak 
ing  the  weeper  in  her  arms  and  caressing  her 
tenderly  ;  "  you'  jes'  de  light  ob  massa's 
eyes,  like  1  tole  you  bef o' ,  an'  de  pet  names 
be  sho'  to  come  again  fo'  long.  'Sides,  you'll 
hab  yo'  ole  seat  on  massa's  knee,  an'  all  de 
hugs  and  kisses  you  wants. " 

"  I'm  afraid  not  for  a  long  while,  mam- 


556  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

my,"  sobbed  the  little  girl.  "  I  think  papa 
has  not  been  so  displeased  with  me  since  that 
dreadful  time,  so  long  ago,  when  we  lived  at 
Roselands." 

The  tea-bell  rang. 

"  Is  you  gwine  to  de  table,  darlin'  ?" 
Chloe  asked. 

"  Oh  no,  no,  mammy  !"  Elsie  exclaimed, 
with  a  fresh  burst  of  grief  ;  ' l  papa  bade  me 
leave  the  room  till  1  could  control  myself,  and 
I  know  1  could  not  do  that  in  his  presence 
yet  ;  oh,  how  can  I  ever  be  with  him  and  not 
call  him  father  or  papa  ?" 

As  they  sat  down  to  the  table  Rose  glanced 
at  the  vacant  seat,  then  at  her  husband.  "  I 
fear  the  dear  child  is  ill  with  grief  and  re 
morse,  Horace,"  she  said,  with  a  troubled, 
anxious  look  ;  "  she  has  such  a  tender  con 
science,  and  so  dearly  loves  the  father  whose 
displeasure  she  has  incurred." 

"  She  is  not  ill  ;  1  saw  her  a  few  moments 
since,"  he  answered,  with  a  sigh.  "  She  is 
distressed,  I  know,  but  it  is  the  consequence 
of  her  own  wrong-doing,  and  she  must  endure 
it  for  a  time  that  she  may  learn  never  again 
to  encourage  her  brother  in  resistance  to  law 
ful  authority." 

"  Don't  you    think    the   lesson   may  be 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  157 

already  learned  ?"  Rose  said  pleadingly. 
"  She  has  no  stubbornness  in  her  nature,  but 
is  very  easily  subdued  and  made  penitent. " 

"  1  am  not  so  sure  of  that  ;  she  comes  of 
very  stubborn  stock,  on  one  side  at  least,"  he 
replied,  with  a  rather  melancholy  attempt  at 
pleasantry. 

"  My  dear  husband,  I  wish  you  would  for 
give  her,"  pleaded  the  young  step-mother. 
"  Surely  you  will  before  she  goes  to  bed  to 
night  ?" 

"  Can  you  not  be  content  to  leave  her  to 
me,  my  Rose  ?"  he  asked.  "  Do  you  not  know 
that  I  am  a  most  doting  father  ?  that  she  is  the 
very  light  of  my  eyes,  and  core  of  my  heart  ? 
Ah,  I  sometimes  fear  she  is  her  father's  idol." 

"No,"  Rose  said,  half -chokingly,  and 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  "  1  am  sure  your  con 
science  need  not  trouble  you  on  that  score  so 
long  as  you  can  find  it  in  your  heart  to  be  so 
severe  with  her  faults." 

"Not  in  my  heart,  love,"  he  returned,  a 
little  hurt,  "  but  in  the  settled  conviction  that 
I  am  acting  for  her  good.  It  requires  a 
strong  effort  of  my  will  to  resist  the  prompt 
ings  of  affection  ;  love  that  urges  me  to  send 
for  her  at  once,  tell  her  she  is  forgiven,  and 
lavish  the  tenderest  caresses  upon  her.'* 


158  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  should  rejoice  to  see 
yon  do,"  said  Rose. 

"  To-morrow  or  next  day  perhaps  you 
may,"  he  answered,  in  a  tone  that  seemed  to 
imply  that  he  wished  to  hear  no  more  on  the 
subject.  And  Rose,  like  the  wise  woman  and 
affectionate  wife  that  she  was,  dropped  it, 
though  her  heart  ached  for  Elsie. 

After  they  had  left  the  dining-room  for 
the  parlor,  she  asked  if  she  might  go  to  the 
little  girl's  apartments  and  see  if  she  were 
feeling  quite  well. 

"  I  really  don't  like  to  claim  so  much  au 
thority  over  my  wife  as  to  forbid  her  going 
where  she  will  about  my  house,  which  is  her 
own  also,"  he  said,  with  a  slight  smile,  lt  but 
I  should  prefer  to  have  the  child  left  to  her 
self  for  the  present.  1  have  not  confined  her 
to  her  rooms,  and  she  can  join  us  when  she 
will.  I  only  bade  her  leave  my  presence  this 
afternoon  till  she  could  control  herself  ;  and 
she  would  understand  from  that  that  she  was 
at  liberty  to  return  to  it  when  ready  to  com 
ply  with  the  condition." 

"  How  she  will  miss  her  good-night  chat 
seated  upon  her  father's  knee  ;  the  good-night 
hug  and  kiss  he  has  been  wont  to  bestow  upon 
her  !"  sighed  Rose. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  15$ 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  in  a  moved  tone,  rising 
and  beginning  to  pace  tbe  room  in  a  disturbed 
way,  "  she  will  hardly  know  what  to  do  with 
out  them  ;  nor  shall  I  ;  but  we  must.  Don't 
make  any  further  efforts  to  shake  my  resolve, 
Rose,  for  I  cannot,  must  not,  pass  lightly  over 
BO  serious  a  misdemeanor  as  she  has  been 
guilty  of  in  this  instance." 

Rose  could  but  comply  with  his  wishes, 
so  plainly  and  strongly  expressed,  and  Elsie 
passed  the  evening  alone,  except  for  the  com 
panionship  of  her  nurse  ;  for  she  dared  not 
trust  herself  again  in  her  father's  presence  till 
she  could  hope  to  be  able  to  maintain  the  self- 
control  he  required. 

As  her  hour  for  retiring  drew  near,  Aunt 
Chloe  noted  how  she  was  listening  for  ap 
proaching  footsteps,  at  the  same  time  glancing 
frequently  at  her  watch  or  the  clock  on  the 
mantel. 

"  Sho,  honey,  you's  gwine  to  de  parlor  to 
say  good-night  fo'  you  goes  to  bed  ?"  she  re 
marked  inquiringly. 

Elsie  shook  her  head,  the  tears  rolling 
down  her  cheeks.  "  How  can  I,  mammy, 
when  I  mustn't  say  father  or  papa  ?"  she 
Bobbed.  "  I  couldn't  without  crying,  if  at 
all ;  and  papa  forbade  me  his  presence  till  I 


160  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

^could  control  myself.  There,  my  bedtime  has 
oome,  and  papa  hasn't.  Oh,  1  could  hardly 
help  hoping  he  did  not  mean  to  let  me  go  to 
bed  unforgiven.  There's  never  been  a  night 
before  since — since  those  dreadful  days  at 
Eoselands,  that  I've  gone  without  his  kiss,  or 
without  being  held  close  to  his  heart  with 
tender,  loving  words  as  if  I  were  the  dearest 
thing  to  him  in  all  the  world." 

"  Don't  you  go  for  to  fret  yo'  po'  heart 
out,  blessed  chile,"  Chloe  said,  taking  her 
nursling  in  her  kind  arms.  "  Yo'  ole  mam 
my  lubs  you  like  her  life  ;  so  does  yo'  pa 
too  ;  an'  maybe  he's  gwine  come  in  hyah 
'bout  de  time  you's  ready  fo'  bed,  to  kiss  an' 
make  up  ef  you  promises  neber  to  do  so  no 
mo'  as  you  been  an'  gone  an'  done  dis  hyah 
mornin'." 

"  Oh  no,  never,  never!"  Elsie  sobbed, 
hiding  her  face  for  a  moment  on  Aunt  Chloe' s 
shoulder.  "  I  don't  know  how  I  ever  dared 
to  do  it !  I  deserve  to  be  punished  very 
severely  ;  no  wonder  papa  is  so  displeased 
with  me." 

She  was  soon  in  bed,  but  did  not,  as  usual 
with  her,  fall  asleep  at  once  ;  she  lay  for  a 
good  while  listening  to  every  sound,  hoping 
even  against  hope  that  her  father  would  relent 


MILDRED  AT' HOME.  161 

and  come  to  give  her  his  forgiveness  and  a 
loving  kiss  ere  she  slept  ;  but  he  did  not,  and 
at  length  she  cried  herself  to  sleep.  It  was 
the  same  thing  over  again  in  the  morning  \ 
she  hoped  he  would  come  to  her  to  inquire  of 
her  penitence  and  good  resolutions  for  the 
future,  or  send  for  her  to  go  to  him  ;  but  she 
waited  and  wished  in  vain,  breakfasted  in  her 
own  rooms — still  too  distrustful  of  her  power 
of  self-control  to  venture  to  join  her  parents 
in  the  breakfast-room — then  prepared  her  task 
for  the  day  ;  yet  could  not  find  courage  to 
carry  them  to  her  father  that  he  might  hear 
her  recitations. 

She  was  glad  the  weather  continued  such 
as  to  keep  visitors  away  ;  she  hoped  none 
would  come  till  this  trouble  of  hers  was  over  ; 
for  how  could  she  bear  to  have  any  one  out  of 
the  family — even  good,  kind  Mr.  Travilla — 
know  that  she  had  so  displeased  her  father  f 
And  while  his  displeasure  lasted,  how  impossi 
ble  it  would  be  for  any  guest  to  fail  to  per 
ceive  it. 

She  tried  one  employment  after  another — - 
needlework,  reading,  music — but  found  no 
interest  in  any  of  them,  and  every  now  and 
then  she  would  give  way  to  a  fit  of  violent 
weeping. 


162  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

u  Oh,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  how  long  is 
it  to  last?  Papa  did  not  say,  and  I  don't 
know  when  he  will  think  I  have  been  pun 
ished  enough." 

So  the  day  wore  wearily  away,  and  night 
came  again  without  any  change  for  the  better. 

Sadly  mourning  over  her  estrangement 
from  her  father,  and  longing  inexpressibly  for 
his  forgiveness  and  loving  favor,  a  thought 
struck  her. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  she  said  half  aloud,  "  I  will 
write  to  papa  the  confession  and  plea  for  par 
don  he  would  not  let  me  speak. ' ' 

Opening  her  writing-desk,  she  selected  a 
sheet  of  paper,  took  up  her  pen  and  dipped  it 
in  the  ink  ;  but,  alas,  how  should  she  begin 
her  note  ?  By  what  title  address  the  father 
who  had  forbidden  her  to  call  him  that  ? 
How  impossible  to  call  him  anything  else  ! 
How  disrespectful,  how  impertinent  to  omit  a 
title  altogether  ! 

She  laid  down  her  pen,  pushed  the  paper 
aside,  and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands, 
wept  long  and  bitterly,  Chloe  watching  her 
with  tear-dimmed  eyes. 

"Precious  chile,"  she  said  at  length, 
"  what  kin  yo'  ole  mammy  do  fo'  her  pet  ?" 

"  Nothing,  mammy,  unless  you  could  per- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  163 

miade  my  father   to    forgive   and    love  me 
again. v 

"  Po'  dear,  he'll  do  dat  befo'  long  ;  1'se 
pow'ful  «sure  ob  dat.  Massa  so  fond  ob  you 
he  kaint  hole  ont  much  longer  hisself.  Was 
you  gwine  write  sumfin'  to  massa,  honey  ?' ' 

"  Yes  ,  but  I  can't,  because  he  forbade  me 
to  call  him  father  or  papa,  and — and  oh,  1 
don't  know  how  to  call  him  anything  else. 
Oh,  mammy,  I  don't  believe  1  can  sleep  at  all 
to-night  withoat  his  forgiveness  !' ' 

"  Den  'spoise  my  chile  go  an'  ax  massa  fo* 
it." 

"  No,  I  dai-e  nctf,  because  he  forbade  me 
to  take  any  greater  liberty  with  him  than  a 
stranger  guest  might,  or  to  come  into  his  pres 
ence  till  I  could  be  calm  ;  and  I  know  I  could 
not  yet." 

"  Den  yo'  ole  mammy  gwine  fo'  you  ;  an* 
dis  am  do  bes'  time,  kase  I  s'pect  massa  by 
hisself  in  de  parlor,"  she  said,  rising  and  leav 
ing  the  room. 

As  she  had  expected,  she  found  Mr.  Dins- 
more  alone  in  the  parlor.  Dropping  a  cour 
tesy,  she  stood  before  him  with  folded  hands, 
waiting  in  respectful  silence  for  an  invitation 
to  speak. 

"  Well,  Aunt  Chloe,  what  is  it  ?"  he  asked 


164=  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  Massa,  my  chile  frettin'  herself  sick." 

"  She  must  not  do  that,"  he  said,  with  a 
touch  of  sternness  in  his  tone. 

"  Please,  sah,  s'pose  my  chile  kaint  help 
it?" 

"  She  must  help  it.     Tell  her  1  say  so.' ' 

"  Oh,  massa,  ain't  you  gwine  forgib  my 
-chile  ?  She  am  mighty  sorry  she  been  an7 
gone  an'  done  such  t'ing  ;  she  ain't  neber 
gwine  do  de  like  ob  dat  no  mo'." 

"  I  trust  not,"  he  said  ;  "  I  shall  have  to 
be  very  severe  with  her  if  she  does.  No,  I 
am  not  ready  to  forgive  her  yet.  Such  con 
duct  as  she  has  been  guilty  of  cannot  be 
passed  over  with  a  trifling  punishment.  She 
must  be  made  to  realize  that  her  offence  is  a 
very  serious  one." 

A  wave  of  his  hand  with  the  last  word 
gave  Chloe  to  understand  that  the  interview 
was  at  an  end. 

Elsie's  heart  beat  high  betwixt  hope  and 
fear  as  she  sat  waiting  and  listening  for 
Chloe's  returning  footsteps,  and  for  her 
father's,  which  might  perhaps  accompany  or 
precede  them. 

"  Oh,  mammy,  what  did  he  say  ?  will  he 
forgive  me  ?  may  I  go  to  him  now  and  call 
him  papa?"  she  asked,  half -breathlessly  and 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  165 

with  an  eager,  longing  look,  as  her  nurse  came 
in.  Then  reading  the  answer  in  Chloe's  sad 
and  troubled  countenance,  she  dropped  her 
face  into  her  hands  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"Don't,  chile  ;  don't,  honey  darlin';  1'se 
sho  it  all  come  right  befo'  long,"  Chloe  said 
tenderly,  laying  her  hand  caressingly  on  the 
drooping  head.  "  But  massa  he  say  you 
mus'  stop  dis  f rettin'  an'  cryin' .  1  tole  him 
s'pose  you  couldn't,  but  he  say  bery  sternly,, 
*  She  must. '  Kin  you  do  it,  darlin'  ?" 

"I'll  try  ;  I  must  obey  my  father,"  she 
sighed,  and  lifting  her  head,  wiped  away  her 
tears,  and  by  a  strong  and  determined  effort 
stopped  their  flow  and  suppressed  her  sobs. 

It  was  now  time  for  her  preparations  for 
bed.  She  went  through  them  in  silence,  tears 
now  and  again  gathering  in  her  eyes,  but 
none  suffered  to  fall. 

"  Papa  must  be  obeyed,"  she  kept  repeat 
ing  to  herself. 

She  maintained  her  self-control  for  some 
time  after  laying  her  head  upon  her  pillow, 
but  sleep  did  not  visit  it,  and  as  she  lay  there 
turning  restlessly  from  side  to  side,  mental 
distress  again  so  overcame  her  that  ere  she  was 
aware  of  it  she  was  wetting  her  pillow  with 
floods  of  tears  and  sobbing  aloud. 


166  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

It  was  now  Mr.  Dinsmore's  own  hour  for 
retiring,  and  he  was  in  his  room,  the  door  of 
communication  with  his  little  daughter's  bed 
room  open  as  usual,  so  that  the  sound  of  her 
weeping  came  very  distinctly  to  his  ear. 

The  next  moment  Elsie  felt  herself  lifted 
from  the  bed  and  set  upon  her  feet  ;  then  her 
hand  was  taken  in  a  close  clasp  and  she  led 
into  the  adjoining  room,  her  own  dressing- 
room. 

Here  the  moon  shone  brightly  in  at  a  win 
dow,  in  front  of  which  stood  an  easy- chair. 
Toward  that  her  father  led  her,  and  seating 
liimself  therein  was  about  to  draw  her  to  his 
knee  ;  but  she  fell  at  his  feet  sobbing,  "  Pa — 
oh,  I  can't  help  forgetting  and  calling  you 
that,  or  crying  because  you  are  angry  with  me  ; 
but  I  don't  want  to  be  disobedient,  and  I'm 
so,  so  sorry  for  all  my  naughtiness.  Please, 
please  forgive  me  ;  please  let  me  call  you 
father,  or  my  heart  will  break  !" 

"  You  may.  I  remove  the  prohibition," 
he  said,  in  a  moved  tone,  lifting  her  up  and 
drawing  her  to  his  breast  ;  "  and  if  you  are 
indeed  very  penitent  on  account  of  your  very 
bad  behavior  yesterday,  and  promise  never  to 
do  such  a  thing  again,  I  will  forgive  and  re 
ceive  you  back  into  favor. ' ' 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  167 

"Dear  father,  thank  you,"  she  sobbed, 
clinging  about  his  neck.  "  1  think  1  was 
never  so  sorry  in  all  my  life,  and  I  am  quite 
resolved  never,  never  to  do  such  a  thing 
again  ;  I  am  astonished  at  myself  to  think  I 
ever  dared  to  do  it." 

"  So  am  I,"  he  said  ;  "  and  I  am  afraid 
you  are  hardly  yet  fully  sensible  of  the  enor 
mity  of  your  offence.  I  want  you  to  reflect 
that  in  that  act  you  were  not  only  guilty  of 
high-handed  rebellion  yourself,  but  were  en 
couraging  and  upholding  your  brother  in  the 
same.  Do  you  wonder  that  I  have  felt  it  my 
painful  duty  to  punish  you  with  some  sever- 
ity?" 

"No,  papa,"  she  answered  humbly,  "I 
feel  that  I  have  deserved  it  all,  and  a  great 
deal  more.  I  wonder  you  didn't  whip  me  too 
then  and  there,  that  Horace  might  see  how 
very  naughty  you  considered  my  interference, 
and  that  I  must  obey  just  the  same  as  lie." 

"I  probably  should  have  done  just  that 
had  you  been  a  little  younger,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  am  not  altogether  sure  that  I  ought  to  have 
suffered  you  to  escape  as  it  was.  You  may 
be  very  sure,"  he  added  gravely  and  with 
some  sternness  of  tone,  "  that  you  will  not,  if 
the  offence  is  ever  repeated." 


168  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  Oh,  it  shall  not  be,  papa,  it  never,  never 
shall  !' '  she  exclaimed,  holding  up  her  face 
for  a  kiss,  which  he  gave  very  heartily. 

"  To  make  sure  of  that,  if  you  see  such  a 
conflict  beginning  (though  I  trust  there  will 
be  no  more  of  them),  leave  the  room  at  once,'  * 
he  said. 

They  were  silent  for  a  moment,  she  with 
her  head  laid  on  his  breast,  her  arm  about  his 
neck,  while  he  held  her  close,  softly  smooth 
ing  the  curls  back  from  her  brow  with  the 
free  hand,  and  gazing  down  tenderly  into  the 
little  pale  face  with  its  tear-swollen  eyes. 

11  My  poor  darling,  you  have  had  a  sad 
time  of  it,"  he  remarked  presently.  "You 
have  been  crying  a  great  deal,  I  see. ' ' 

At  that  her  face  flushed  painfully,  and  her 
lip  quivered.  "Please,  papa,  don't  be  an 
gry,"  she  said  in  tremulous  tones.  "  I  tried 
to  stop  as  soon  as  you  sent  me  word  that  I 
must.  I  didn't  shed  any  more  tears  till  after 
I  got  into  bed  ;  but  then  I  was  so,  so  hungry 
for  my  good- night  kiss  that  they  would  come 
in  spite  of  all  I  could  do." 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  he  said  ;  "  I  have  for 
given  all  your  offences,  and  this  is  the  seal," 
kissing  her  fondly  several  times. 

"  Dear  papa,  thank  you.     Oh,  how  dearly 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  169 

I  do  love  you  !  how  sweet  your  caresses  are 
to  me  !"  she  exclaimed.  Then  after  a  mo 
ment's  silence,  "  Are  mamma  and  Horace 
quite  well,  papa  ?' '  she  asked. 

"  Yes  ;  both  would  have  been  in  to  see 
you  if  their  plans  had  met  my  approval. 
Horace  was  much  concerned  when  I  explained 
to  him  that  because  his  sister  was  so  very 
naughty  as  to  try  to  take  him  away  from  me 
when  I  was  punishing  him  for  being  stubborn 
and  disobedient,  she  had  to  be  punished  too  ; 
and  for  that  reason  he  could  not  see  her." 

"  I  am  very  much  ashamed  of  having  set 
him  so  bad  an  example,  papa,"  she  said  with 
a  sob,  and  blushing  deeply. 

"  It  was  to  neutralize  that  example,  not  to 
mortify  you,  that  I  deemed  it  necessary  to  tell 
him.  Now,  my  love,  my  darling,  it  is  high 
time  you  were  in  bed  and  asleep,"  he  added, 
repeating  his  caresses  ;  then  setting  her  on 
her  feet  again,  he  led  her  back  to  her  bed, 
laid  her  in  it,  and  with  a  fatherly  blessing  and 
a  kiss  on  lip  and  cheek  and  forehead,  left  her 
to  her  slumbers. 

At  first  she  seemed  too  full  of  joy  and 
thankfulness  to  close  an  eye  ;  yet  ere  she  was 
aware  of  it  the  happy  waking  thoughts  had 
merged  themselves  in  blissful  dreams. 


CROSSING   THE    PLAINS. 

NEWS  was  several  times  received  from 
Rupert  and  Don  during  their  slow  and  toil 
some  journey  across  the  States  of  Illinois  and 
Missouri,  but  when  the  last  frontier  town  wa& 
left  behind  and  with  it  such  luxuries  of  civili 
zation  as  mails  and  post-offices,  the  door  of 
communication  was  closed  :  they  could  nei 
ther  hear  from  home  nor  be  heard  from  there 
till  the  trackless  wilderness  should  be  crossed 
and  the  land  of  golden  promise  reached. 

The  Keiths  had  an  ox-team  and  wagon  for 
the  transportation  of  their  baggage — clothing, 
camp  equipage,  mining  tools,  and  some  luxu 
ries,  among  which  were  a  few  books.  Also  a 
saddle-horse,  which  they  rode  by  turns  ; 
though  Rupert  oftener  than  Don,  who  had 
more  strength  for  driving  and  more  taste  for  it. 

This  emigrant  band,  of  which  they  formed 
a  part,  comprised  some  twenty  men,  several 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  171 

with  wives  and  children  ;  a  dozen  wagons 
drawn  by  oxen,  and  two  or  three  horses  beside 
that  which  was  the  joint  property  of  Rupert 
and  Don. 

Rupert's  health  had  steadily  improved 
from  the  time  of  leaving  home,  so  that  the 
bulletins  to  the  dear  ones  there  had  been 
sources  of  great  joy,  though  joy  mingled  with 
grief  at  the  thought  of  the  months  or  perhaps 
years  that  must  pass  by  ere  they  could  hope  to 
«ee  the  loved  wanderers  again. 

Rupert,  who  was  of  a  very  kindly  disposi 
tion,  always  on  the  lookout  for  opportunities 
to  be  of  service  to  others,  had  already  become 
a  general  favorite  with  his  fellow-travellers. 

Was  a  little  child  crying  with  the  weari 
ness  of  confinement  to  the  cramped  quarters 
of  the  wagon,  he  would  take  it  on  his  horse 
before  him,  and  give  it  the  rest  of  a  brisk 
canter  in  the  open  air  and  with  an  unobstruct 
ed  view  on  all  sides. 

Older  ones  were  frequently  taken  up  be 
hind  him  ;  at  other  times  he  dismounted,  and 
joining  them  as  they  plodded  along  beside  or 
in  the  rear  of  the  wagons,  beguiled  the  tedi- 
ousness  of  the  way  with  story  or  song. 

So  slow  was  the  movement  of  the  oxen,  so 
wearisome  the  constant  sitting  or  lying  in  the 


172  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

jolting  wagons,  that  a  robust  child  would  very 
often  prefer  walking  during  the  greater  part 
of  the  day  ;  and  even  little  girls  were  known 
to  have  walked  hundreds  of  miles  in  making 
the  trip  across  the  plains. 

But  it  was  necessary  to  keep  near  the 
wagons  because  of  danger  from  wild  beasts 
and  roving  bands  of  Indians. 

Rupert,  and  indeed  every  man  in  the 
party,  was  always  armed  ready  to  repel  an  at 
tack  or  to  bring  down  game  that  came  within 
shooting  distance,  thus  adding  a  welcome 
variety  to  their  bill  of  fare.  There  were  wild 
geese  and  turkeys,  prairie  fowl,  rabbits,  squir 
rels,  deer,  bisons,  and  bears,  all  to  be  had  for 
the  shooting. 

After  leaving  Independence  they  camped 
out  every  night,  building  a  fire  to  cook  their 
evening  meal  and  keep  off  wild  beasts,  except 
when  there  was  reason  to  fear  that  Indians 
were  in  the  neighborhood  ;  then  the  fire  was 
not  kindled,  as  the  smoke  would  be  likely  to 
reveal  their  vicinity  to  the  lurking  foe  ;  but 
instead,  sentinels  were  posted,  who  kept  vigi 
lant  watch  while  the  others  slept. 

Occasionally  in  the  day-time,  when  no 
game  had  come  near,  two  or  three  of  the  men 
would  mount  their  horses  and  gallop  away 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  173 

over  the  prairie  in  search  of  it,  finding  it  no 
very  difficult  task  to  overtake  the  slow-mov 
ing  wagon-train,  even  after  a  ride  of  several 
miles,  and  an  absence,  it  might  be,  of  an  hour 
or  more. 

One  afternoon,  when  they  had  been  many 
weeks  passing  through  that  great  wilderness, 
so  that  they  were  now  much  nearer  California 
than  the  homes  they  had  left  behind,  they 
were  crossing  a  seemingly  boundless  rolling 
prairie. 

Their  provisions  were  getting  low,  and 
fowls  and  larger  game  alike  had  kept  out  of 
shooting  range  all  day. 

"It's  five  o'clock,"  Kupert  Keith  said, 
looking  at  his  watch  and  addressing  a  man 
named  Morton,  who  was  riding  by  his  side, 
*'  and  will  soon  be  too  late  for  a  shot  at  any 
thing.  Suppose  we  dash  off  over  those  hills 
yonder  and  see  if  we  can't  scare  up  some 
thing." 

"  Agreed,"  replied  Morton.  Then  called 
to  another  horseman,  "  Halloo,  Smith  !  will 
you  join  Keith  and  me  in  a  run  over  those 
hills  in  search  of  game  ?" 

"  That  I  will  !"  was  the  rejoinder,  and 
away  they  galloped,  and  were  in  a  few  mo 
menta  lost  to  the  view  of  the  rest  of  their 


174  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

party,  who  continued  moving  onward  in  thair 
accustomed  leisurely  fashion. 

An  hour  or  more  had  passed  ;  the  prairie 
still  stretched  away  on  every  side  ;  the  dtetant 
hills  to  the  southward,  beyond  which  the 
horsemen  had  gone,  were  still  in  view,  and 
the  eyes  of  almost  every  one  in  the  train  were 
turned  ever  and  anon  in  that  direction,  hop 
ing  for  their  feturn  well-laden  with  venison 
or  wild  fowl. 

At  length  a  shout  was  raised,  "  Here  they 
come  !"  but  was  followed  instantly  by  the 
affrighted  cry,  "  Indians  !  Indians  !"  for  a 
party  of  the  latter  were  in  full  chase. 

Don  was  walking  beside  his  team,  two 
little  girls  quite  near  him.  He  caught  them 
up  and  almost  threw  them  into  his  wagon, 
telling  them  to  lie  down  and  keep  quiet  and 
still ;  then  turned  and  pulled  out  a  revolver. 

Others  had  acted  with  equal  quickness, 
and  were  ready — some  from  their  wagons, 
some  from  the  ground — to  fire  upon  the  ad 
vancing  foe. 

There  was  a  brief,  sharp  fight ;  the  Indians 
were  driven  off,  carrying  their  killed  and 
wounded  with  them. 

Then  it  was  found  that  Rupert  was  miss 
ing,  Smith  badly  wounded,  one  or  two  others 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  175 

slightly,  while  Don  lay  insensible  and  bleed 
ing  on  the  ground  near  his  wagon. 

They  at  first  thought  him  dead,  but  he 
had  only  fainted  from  loss  of  blood,  and  they 
presently  succeeded  in  bringing  him  to. 

"  Rupert  ?  my  brother — where  is  he  ?"  he 
asked  in  the  first  moment  of  consciousness. 

"  Those  red  devils  have  done  for  him, 
Don,"  Morton  answered,  with  a  tremble  in  his 
voice  ;  the  shot  that  tumbled  him  from  his 
horse  was  the  first  intimation  we  had  that 
they  were  upon  us." 

Don  groaned  and  hid  his  face. 
"Don't  take  it  so  hard,"  said  a  pitying 
woman's  voice  ;  "he's  gone  to  a  better  place  ; 
we  all  know  that ;  nobody  could  be  with  him 
a  day  and  not  see  that  he  was  a  real  Chris 
tian." 

"That's  so."  "True  enough,  Mrs. 
Stone."  "  I  only  wish  we  were  all  as  ready 
for  heaven, ' '  responded  one  and  another. 

Then  Morton  suggested  that  they  ought 
to  be  moving  on  ;  the  Indians  might  return 
in  larger  force  ;  it  would  not  do  to  encamp 
where  they  were,  and  night  was  coming  on. 

To  this  there  was  a  general  assent.  Don 
was  carefully  and  tenderly  lifted  into  his 
wagon  and  gently  laid  down  upon  the  softest 


176  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

bed  that  could  be  improvised  for  him  ;  then  a 
volunteer  driver  from  among  the  young  men 
of  the  party  took  his  seat  and  drove  on,  doing 
his  best  to  make  the  motion  easy  to  the  suffer 
er.  They  were  the  last  of  the  train,  but  not 
far  behind  the  wagon  next  in  front  of  them. 

In  spite  of  all  the  care  and  kindness  shown 
him,  Don's  bodily  sufferings  were  acute,  yet 
by  no  means  equal  to  his  mental  distress  ;  his 
sense  of  bereavement — a  bereavement  so  sud 
den,  so  shocking — and  anguish  at  the  thought 
of  the  poignant  grief  of  his  parents  when  the 
dreadful  news  should  reach  their  ears. 

The  emigrants  pushed  on  for  several  hours 
before  they  ventured  to  stop  and  encamp. 
When  at  last  they  did,  the  cessation  of  motion 
gave  some  slight  relief  to  poor  Don,  and  the 
food  brought  him  by  the  kind-hearted  woman 
who  had  tried  to  comfort  him  with  the  assur 
ance  of  his  brother's  readiness  for  death,  re 
vived  somewhat  his  failing  strength  ;  but  it 
was  a  night  of  pain  and  grief,  in  which  Don 
would  have  given  much  to  be  at  home  again, 
especially  if  he  might  have  had  Rupert  there 
alive  and  well. 

The  night  passed  quietly  ;  there  was  no 
new  alarm,  and  early  in  the  morning  the  emi 
grants  pursued  their  way,  pressing  forward  as 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  177 

rapidly  as  circumstances  wo  aid  permit,  and 
keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  Indians. 

Before  they  started — indeed,  as  soon  as  he 
was  awake,  Morton  came  to  ask  how  Don  was, 
and  how  he  had  passed  the  night. 

Don  answered  briefly,  then  burst  out, 
"  Oh,  Morton,  are  you  quite  sure  that — that 
my  brother  was  killed  ?  May  he  not  have 
been  only  stunned  by  the  shot  and  the  fall 
from  his  horse  ?" 

Morton  shook  his  head.  "  No,  I  looked 
back  several  times,  and  he  never  moved. " 

"Oh,"  groaned  Don,  "if  only  I  were 
not  helpless,  I  should  go  and  search  for  him, 
for  I  do  not  feel  at  all  sure  that  he  is  not  still 
alive." 

"  Well,  1  think  you  may,"  said  Morton  ; 
"  for  even  supposing  he  was  not  killed  by  that 
first  shot  and  the  fall,  the  Indians  would  be 
sure  to  finish  him  when  they  went  back,  for 
they  went  off  in  that  direction." 

Don  turned  away  his  face  with  a  heavy- 
sob.  It  did  indeed  seem  almost  impossible 
that  Rupert  could  have  escaped  death,  and 
yet — and  yet — oh,  if  he  were  but  able  to  go 
in  search  of  him  !  Perhaps  he  was  a  captive 
doomed  to  death  by  slow  torture.  Oh,  to  fty 
to  his  aid  !  rescue  or  perish  with  him  1 


178  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

But  no  one  else  in  all  the  company  thought 
there  was  the  least  chance  that  he  was  alive, 
and  to  go  in  quest  of  him  would  not  only 
greatly  delay  them  (a  great  misfortune,  consid 
ering  the  fact  that  their  stock  of  provisions 
was  so  low),  but  would  risk  all  their  lives,  as 
the  Indians  were  probably  still  prowling  about 
that  spot,  and  might  attack  them  in  great 
force. 

The  poor  boy's  only  comfort  was,  that 
"wherever  and  in  whatever  circumstances  his 
brother  might  be,  he  was  under  the  care  of  an 
almighty  Friend,  who  would  never  leave  nor 
forsake  him,  and  in  being  able  to  plead  for 
him  with  that  Friend. 

The  rest  of  the  journey  was  of  course  a 
very  sad  one  to  poor  Don,  though  every  one 
was  kind  to  him,  doing  all  that  was  possible 
for  his  relief  and  comfort,  partly  for  Rupert's 
"sake,  partly  for  Don's  own,  for  he  too  had 
ever  shown  a  pleasant,  obliging,  kindly  dis 
position  toward  others. 

His  wounds  had  nearly  healed,  and  he  had 
recovered  almost  his  usual  strength  by  the 
time  their  destination  was  reached. 

Arrived  there,  he  wrote  at  once  to  his 
parents,  telling  of  Rupert's  loss,  his  own  con 
dition,  and  asking  if  they  were  willing  that, 


MILDEED  AT  HOME.  179 

being  now  upon  the  ground,  he  should  stay 
for  a  time  and  look  for  gold. 

But  as  months  must  elapse  ere  he  could 
hope  to  receive  an  answer,  he  set  to  work  de 
termined  to  do  his  best  in  the  mean  time. 

He  did  not  find  the  life  a  whit  less  toil 
some  and  trying  than  his  parents  had  warned 
him  it  would  be,  nor  were  his  surroundings 
any  more  agreeable  ;  the  roughest  of  men, 
drinking,  smoking,  swearing,  quarrelsome 
creatures,  were  often  his  daily  companions  ; 
the  foulest  language  assailed  his  ears  ;  gam 
bling  and  drunken  brawls  went  on  in  his  pres 
ence  ;  robberies,  murders,  and  lynchings  were 
of  frequent  occurrence ;  the  Sabbath  was 
openly  desecrated  ;  men — even  those  who  had 
been  all  their  previous  lives  accustomed  to  the 
restraints  of  religion — here  acted  as  if  they 
had  never  heard  of  God,  or  heaven,  or  hell. 

And  there  were  few  creature  comforts  to 
be  had  ;  all  the  necessaries  of  life  were  sold  at 
astonishingly  high  prices,  so  that  gold,  even 
when  found,  could  not  be  kept,  but  melted 
away  like  snow  in  the  sun. 

It  was  not  long  before  Don's  thoughts 
were  turned  yearningly  toward  the  home  he 
had  been  so  eager  to  forsake. 

He  was  tolerably  fortunate  in  his  quest  ;. 


180  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

but  alas  !  all  the  gold  in  the  world  could  not 
•compensate  for  the  loss  of  all  the  sweetness 
and  beauty  of  life  ;  all  the  happiness  to  be 
found  in  a  well-regulated  home,  where  love  to 
God  and  man  was  the  ruling  principle  of  ac 
tion  ;  where  were  neatness  and  order,  gentle 
ness  and  refinement  ;  where  sweet-toned 
voices  spoke  kindly  affectionate  words  ;  affec 
tionate  smiles  were  wont  to  greet  his  coming, 
and  loved  eyes  to  look  lovingly  into  his. 


"  There  is  that  speaketh  like  the  piercings  of  a  sword."—  PROT. 
12  :  18. 


months  had  passed,  bringing  no 
news  from  their  "Westward-bound  sons,  and,. 
in  spite  of  their  trust  in  God,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Keith  were  often  not  a  little  anxious. 

Miss  Stanhope  had  returned  to  her  home 
in  the  fall  after  the  boys'  departure.  Her 
pleasant,  cheery  companionship  was  muck 
missed,  and  but  for  Mildred  and  Zillah  being 
so  near,  the  mother  would  have  seen  many  a 
lonely  hour,  though  she  found  agreeable  oc 
cupation  for  a  part  of  each  day  in  teaching 
Annis,  keeping  her  from  school,  and  consti 
tuting  herself  her  governess. 

This  took  up  the  morning  hours,  while  the 
married  daughters  were  engaged  with  house 
hold  cares  and  duties  ;  then  the  afternoons,  if 
the  weather  permitted  any  of  them  to  go 
from  home,  were  usually  spent  together  at 
one  or  another  of  the  three  houses,  the  ladiea 


182  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

busy  with  their  needles,  the  children  playing 
about  the  room. 

Both  Mildred's  and  Zillah's  cares  were  in 
creasing,  for  each  had  now  a  little  daughter  ; 
so  that  there  were  four  little  ones  to  claim  the 
love  of  the  grandparents  and  help  to  win  their 
thoughts  from  the  anxious  following  of  the 
absent  sons  ;  in  that  way  they  were  proving 
great  comforts  as  well  as  cares. 

So  the  winter  slipped  quietly  away  without 
any  startling  event  to  mark  its  progress. 

But  in  March  Mrs.  Keith  had  an  attack  of 
pneumonia,  which  greatly  alarmed  the  family 
and  kept  her  in  bed  for  a  fortnight.  She  was 
about  again,  but  still  feeble,  and,  in  conse 
quence  of  her  weakness  of  body,  more  than 
«ver  anxious  and  distressed  about  Rupert  and 
Don,  from  whom  no  news  had  yet  been  re 
ceived  since  the  letter  written  from  Indepen 
dence  so  many,  many  months  ago. 

Mildred  spent  every  spare  moment  with 
her  mother,  doing  all  in  her  power  for  her 
comfort  of  body  and  to  cheer  and  interest  her 
and  keep  her  mind  from  dwelling  upon  the 
absent  dear  ones. 

Dr.  Landreth  too  was  exceedingly  kind  to 
his  mother-in-law,  for  whom  he  had  a  very 
strong  and  filial  affection.  He  would  have 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  183 

willingly  sacrificed  his  own  comfort  at  any 
time  for  hers,  and  was  more  than  willing-  to 
have  Mildred  constantly  with  her  while  she- 
was  so  feeble  and  ailing;  while  all  his  skill  and 
medical  knowledge  were  exerted  for  her 
benefit. 

One  evening  Mildred,  helping  her  mother 
to  bed,  remarked,  "  I  wonder  what  has  be 
come  of  Charlie  ;  he  hasn't  been  in  to  see  you- 
this  afternoon." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  an  evidence  that  he 
thinks  me  a  great  deal  better,"  Mrs.  Keith 
answered,  in  a  playful  tone.  Then,  more  seri 
ously,  "  He  has  been  very,  very  good  to  me, 
Mildred  ;  you  must  tell  him  I  appreciate  his 
kindness." 

"  He  knows  you  do,  mother,"  Mildred 
answered  ;  but  indeed  it  is  a  real  pleasure  to 
him  to  do  anything  in  his  power  for  you  ;  he 
says  you  are  the  only  mother  he  has  ever 
known,  and  a  very  dear  and  precious  one." 

"  No  doubt  he  would  have  been  in  this 
afternoon  if  he  had  not  been  prevented.  I 
fear  somebody  is  very  ill." 

A  few  minutes  later  Mildred,  passing  out 
of  the  house  on  her  way  to  her  own  home, 
met  her  husband  at  the  gate. 

He  gave  her  his  arm  almost  without  a  wof  "i, 


184  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

nor  did  he  speak  during  their  short  walk  j  but 
Mildred's  thoughts  were  busy,  and  she  scarcely 
noticed  his  silence. 

It  was  too  dark  in  the  street  to  see  hi& 
face,  but  on  entering  their  own  sitting-room, 
where  a  bright  light  was  burning,  she  caught 
sight  of  it,  and  its  pale,  distressed  look  struck 
terror  to  her  heart. 

"  O  Charlie,  what  is  it  ?"  she  cried,  drop 
ping  her  cloak  upon  the  floor  and  throw 
ing  off  her  bonnet,  then  putting  her  arms 
about  his  neck  and  gazing  with  frightened, 
questioning  eyes  into  his  that  were  full  of 
anguish. 

"  My  darling,  I  don't  know  how  to  tell 
you,"  he  said  hoarsely,  holding  her  close. 

"  My  brothers  ?"  she  gasped,  turning  pale 
as  death. 

He  bowed  a  silent  assent. 

"  What — what  is  it  ?"  she  asked,  scarcely 
able  to  articulate. 

"  The  very  worst,"  he  said.  "  Tet  stay  ; 
it  may  not  be  true  ;  but  there  is  a  dreadful 
report  about  town,  that  the  train  was  attacked 
by  Indians  and  several  killed — " 

"Rupert  and  Don  among  them?"  sh& 
faltered,  half -inquiringly,  as  he  paused,  leav 
ing  his  sentence  unfinished. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  185 

"  Yes  ;  but,  Milly  dear,  it  may  be  alto 
gether  untrue. ' ' 

She  was  clinging  to  him  and  weeping  as  if 
her  very  heart  would  break,  her  whole  frame 
shaking  with  sobs. 

' '  My  brothers,  my  brothers  !  my  dear, 
dear  brothers  !"  she  cried.  "  O  Charlie, 
Charlie,  why  did  they  ever  go  into  such  fear 
ful  danger  ?" 

11 1  thought  it  for  the  best,  love,  when  I 
advised  it,"  he  said  in  a  pained  tone  ;  "  but  if 
I  could  have  foreseen — ' ' 

"  Dear  husband,  I  forgot  it  was  by  your 
advice,"  she  sobbed  ;  "  forgive  me  ;  I  should 
never  think  of  blaming  you." 

"  Thank  you,  love,  I  can  hardly  help 
blaming  myself,  though  reason  tells  me  1  am 
innocent.  Ah,  if  I  could  but  have  fore 
seen — " 

"  But  you  could  not  ;  no  mortal  could. 
Both  killed  ?  Both  gone  ?  Oh,  it  is  too,  too 
terrible  !" 

The  door  flew  open  and  Zillah  rushed  in, 
closely  followed  by  "Wallace. 

He  was  deathly  pale,  and  his  eyes  were  full 
of  tears.  She  was  weeping  aloud. 

"O  Milly,  Milly!"  she  cried,  "was 
there  ever  anything  so  terrible  ?  It  will  kill 


186  MILDRED  AI   HOME. 

mother ;  she  can  never  stand  it  in  hei  weak 
state." 

"  We  must  manage  to  keep  it  from  her," 
the  doctor  said. 

"  How  can  we  ?  She  will  see  it  in  our 
faces,"  sobbed  Zillah. 

"We  must  control  our  features  ;  we  must 
banish  every  expression  of  grief  from  them 
and  from  our  words  and  voices  when  in  her 
presence.  Her  life  may  depend  upon  it,  for 
ehe  is  very  feeble  just  now." 

"  We  will  all  try,"  Wallace  said,  with  a 
heavy  sigh.  "  Let  none  of  us  venture  into 
her  presence  until  we  are  sure  of  ourselves. ' ' 

' '  It  will  be  very  difficult,  but  I  believe 
God  will  give  us  strength,"  said  Mildred,  "  if 
we  ask  it  in  faith.  Oh,  it  is  an  awful,  awful 
thing  !"  she  cried,  a  fierce  paroxysm  of  grief 
sweeping  over  her  ;  then,  as  she  grew  calmer, 
1 '  but  we  have  strong  consolation  in  the  cer 
tain  knowledge  that  they  were  of  those  who 
trust  in  the  imputed  righteousness  of  Christ  ; 
that  they  had  made  their  peace  with  God  and 
were  ready  for  the  summons  home. ' ' 

"  Yes,"  said  Wallace,  "  we  sorrow  not  as 
those  without  hope  ;  and  dear  mother,  who 
lives  so  near  the  Master,  and  realizes  so  fully 
the  blessedness  of  those  who  have  gone  to  be- 


MILDRED   AT  HOME.  187 

forever  with  Him,  will,  I  doubt  not,  be  able 
to  bear  up  under  this  new  trial,  terrible  as  it 
is,  when  she  has  regained  her  usual  health." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,"  the  doctor  said. 

"  But  oh,  it  is  so  terrible,  so  terrible  !" 
sobbed  Zillah  ;  "  far  worse  than  any  of  the 
many  trials  that  have  come  to  us  in  the  last 
two  or  three  years. " 

u  Does  father  know  ?"  asked  Mildred. 
"  Has  he  heard  ?" 

Neither  the  doctor  nor  Wallace  could  an 
swer  the  question  ;  they  had  not  seen  him 
since  early  in  the  day. 

But  while  they  were  saying  so  the  door 
bell  rang  and  he  came  in,  bent,  bowed  down, 
aged  with  grief,  till  he  looked  an  older  man 
by  ten — twenty  years  than  when  they  had  seen 
him  last. 

With  a  moan  of  unspeakable  anguish  he 
dropped  into  a  chair  and  bowed  his  head  upon 
his  hands. 

His  daughters  flew  to  him  and  enfolded 
him  in  loving  arms,  tears  of  sympathy  stream 
ing  down  their  cheeks. 

"Father,  dear,  dear  father,"  they  said, 
"  oh,  do  not  be  so  distressed  !  it  may  not  be 
true." 

"Alas,    alas!    I   dare   not   hope   it,"   he 


188  MILDRED  AT  HONE. 

groaned.  "  My  boys — my  boys  ;  would  God 
1  had  died  for  you  !  My  sons,  oh,  my  sons  \ 
Such  a  fate  !  such  a  terrible  fate  !" 

"But,  dear  father,  think  how  happy  they 
are  now,"  said  Mildred,  weeping  as  she  spoke, 

11  Yes,  there  is  great  and  undeserved 
mercy  mingled  with  the  terrible  affliction," 
he  replied  ;  "  '  they  cannot  return  to  me,  but 
1  shal]  go  to  them.'  Thanks  be  unto  God  for 
that  blessed  hope  !  But  my  wife  —  your 
mother  !  this  will  kill  her  !" 

"Dear  father,"  said  Mildred,  "do  not 
forget  the  precious  promise,  f  As  thy  days,  so 
shall  thy  strength  be. ' ' ' 

"  We  have  all  agreed  to  try  to  hide  it 
from  her  till  she  is  stronger, ' '  the  doctor  re 
marked.  "  We  will  have  to  school  ourselves 
to  look  and  act  and  speak  as  if  no  such  news, 
had  reached  our  ears. " 

"  An  impossible  task,  1  fear,"  sighed  Mr. 
Keith.  "  Marcia  and  I  have  had  no  secrets 
from  each  other  since  we  were  married,  and 
it  will  be  no  easy  task  for  me  to  conceal  my 
anguish  of  heart  from  her  now  ;  but,  God 
helping  me,  I  will." 

To  father  and  daughters  the  next  few  days 
were  a  severe  ordeal,  for  it  was  difficult  in 
deed  to  hide  their  bitter  grief  from  the  love- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  189 

sharpened  eyes  of  the  tender  wife  and  mother  ; 
they  were  cheerful  when  they  could  force 
themselves  to  be  so  ;  and  when  tears  would 
liave  their  way  they  talked  of  Fan,  and  seemed 
to  be  mourning  afresh  over  her  early  death, 
or  spoke  of  Ada  in  her  far  distant  home,  and 
liow  faint  was  the  hope  that  she  would  ever 
be  with  them  again. 

Mrs.  Keith  seemed  somewhat  surprised  at 
these  renewed  manifestations  of  grief  that  had 
appeared  to  be  softened  by  the  lapse  of  time  ; 
but  asking  no  questions,  she  simply  talked  to 
them  of  Fan's  blessedness  and  the  good  work 
Ada  was  doing  for  the  Master,  and  of  the 
time  when  they  would  again  be  a  united  fam 
ily  in  the  glorious  land  where  partings  are  un 
known. 

She  was  regaining  strength  every  day,  and 
in  seeing  that  they  felt  well  rewarded  for  their 
efforts  at  self-control  and  encouraged  to  per 
severe  with  them  ;  and  they  did,  though  at 
times — especially  when  she  would  speak  of 
Rupert  and  Don,  talking  hopefully  of  soon 
hearing  of  their  safe  arrival  in  California — it 
was  almost  beyond  their  power  ;  and  they 
were  compelled  to  find  some  pretext  for  leav 
ing  the  room,  that  for  a  short  space  they  might 
let  grief  have  its  way. 


190  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Mildred  was  sitting  with  her  mother  one 
morning,  her  babe  asleep  by  her  side  in  the 
cradle  that  been  occupied  successively  by  her 
self  and  all  her  brothers  and  sisters,  Percy 
quietly  busied  with  a  picture-book. 

The  two  ladies  had  their  sewing,  and 
Annis  was  conning  her  lessons  on  the  farther 
side  of  the  room. 

The  door-bell  rang,  and  Celestia  Ann 
ushered  in  a  woman,  a  resident  of  the  town, 
with  whom  the  ladies  had  never  had  any  ac 
quaintance,  though  they  knew  her  by  name. 
Her  call  was  therefore  a  surprise  ;  but  they 
gave  her  a  pleasant  good-morning  and  a  polite 
invitation  to  be  seated. 

She  sat  down,  made  a  few  remarks  about 
the  weather  and  the  state  of  the  roads,  then, 
looking  Mrs.  Keith  full  in  the  face,  said,  "  1 
e'pose  you've  heard  the  news  about  the  last 
party  that  set  off  from  here  for  Calif orny  ?" 

Mildred  made  a  warning  gesture,  but  it 
was  too  late,  and  doubtless  would  not  have 
been  heeded  even  could  it  have  been  given  in 
time. 

"  What  news  ?"  Mrs.  Keith  asked,  in  a 
startled  tone,  while  Annis  rose  and  came  for 
ward  in  an  excited  manner,  her  eyes  wild  with 
affright. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  191 

"  So  you  haven't  heard  ?"  pursued  the 
caller,  with  the  satisfaction  of  the  newsmonger 
in  a  fresh  customer  for  her  wares.  ' '  Well — ' ' 

"Mrs.  Slate,"  interrupted  Mildred,  "1 
must  beg  you  will  say  no  more  ;  we  have 
heard  a  vague  report,  which  may  be  entirely 
untrue,  but  have  been  trying  to  keep  it  from 
mother,  for  she  is  too  weak  to  bear  it." 

"  "What  is  it,  Mildred,  my  child,  what  is 
it  ?"  gasped  the  poor  invalid,  turning  deathly 
pale. 

"  Dear  mother,  don't  ask  ;  it  would  only 
distress  you,  and  may  be  all  a  lie,"  Mildred 
said,  going  to  her  and  putting  her  arms  about 
her  in  tender,  loving  fashion. 

"  Tell  me,  my  child,  tell  me  ;  it  is  useless 
to  try  to  keep  me  in  ignorance  now  ;  suspense 
would  be  worse  than  the  direst  certainty," 
faltered  the  mother. 

"  But  there  is  no  certainty,  mother  dear," 
Mildred  said  pityingly,  her  tears  falling  fast 
as  she  spoke  ;  "  oh,  be  content  not  to  hear 
what  can  but  give  you  pain  !" 

"  She'd  ought  to  know,"  said  Mrs.  Slate  ; 
"she's  got  to  hear  it  sooner  or  later,  and 
what's  the  use  of  puttin'  her  off  so  ?  I'll  tell 
you,  Mrs.  Keith.  They  say  the  train  was  at 
tacked  by  the  Injins  and  most  o'  the  men 


192  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

killed,  your  two  boys  among  the  rest.  I  felt 
it  my  duty  to  come  and  tell  you  about  it,  in 
case  you  hadn't  heard,  and  to  call  your  atten 
tion  to  the  fact  that  this  appears  to  be  the  way 
Providence  has  taken  for  to  punish  you  for 
bringin'  'em  up  to  care  so  much  for  gold  ; 
and—" 

"  Leave  the  house  this  instant,  and  never 
venture  to  darken  its  doors  again  !"  cried 
Mildred,  supporting  her  fainting  mother  with 
one  arm,  while  she  turned,  full  of  righteous 
indignation,  toward  her  tormentor  with  a 
stamp  of  her  foot  to  enforce  the  order  she 
could  not  refrain  from  giving. 

"I've  only  done  my  dooty,"  muttered 
the  woman,  rising  and  sailing  from  the  room 
with  her  head  in  the  air. 

"O  mother,  mother!"  sobbed  Mildred. 
"  Annis,  help  me  to  lay  her  on  the  lounge, 
and  run  for  Charlie.  I  think  he's  at  home  in 
the  office.  The  cruel,  cruel  creature  !  how 
could  she  !  oh,  how  could  she  !" 

Annis,  wildly  weeping,  hastened  to  obey. 
1 1  O  Milly,  Milly,  is  mother  dying  ?  Is  it  true 
about  the  boys  ?" 

"  She  has  only  fainted,  and  it  is  only  a 
report  about  the  boys,  that  may  not  be  at  all 
true,"  Mildred  said.  "  Now  call  Celestia 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  193 

to  help  me,  and  you  run  for  Charlie  as 
fast  as  you  can.  O  Zillah,' '  in  a  tone  of  relief 
as  the  door  opened  and  Mrs.  Ormsby  came  in, 
"  I'm  glad  you've  come.  Run  to  mother's 
room  and  get  the  bottle  of  ammonia. ' ' 

Greatly  startled  and  alarmed  by  the 
glimpse  she  had  got  of  her  mother's  white, 
unconscious  face,  Zillah  ran  to  do  her  sister's 
bidding,  while  Celestia  Ann,  summoned  by 
Annis,  hastened  to  render  all  the  assistance  in 
her  power,  and  poor,  terrified  Annis  flew  like 
the  wind  in  search  of  the  doctor. 

She  found  him  in,  and,  though  scarcely 
able  to  articulate,  made  him  understand  that 
his  presence  was  wanted  with  all  speed. 

She  darted  back,  and  he  caught  up  his 
medicine-case  and  followed  close  at  her  heels. 

Mrs.  Keith  still  lay  white  and  insensible, 
the  three  women  busy  about  her  with  half- 
despairing  efforts  to  restore  her  to  conscious 
ness. 

They  began  to  fear  it  was  something  more 
than  an  ordinary  faint.  Had  that  sudden, 
cruel  announcement  taken  her  life  ?  Happy 
for  her  were  it  so  ;  but  oh,  how  could  hus 
band  and  children  spare  her  ? 

Mildred  turned  upon  her  husband  a  look 
of  agonized  inquiry. 


194  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,  love,"  he  said,  "  she 
will  revive  presently,  I  trust. " 

Some  moments  of  trying  suspense  ensued  ; 
then  her  eyes  opened  wide  and  glanced  about 
from  one  to  another. 

"  What  has  happened  ?"  she  asked,  in  fee 
ble  accents  ;  "  have  I  been  worse  ?" 

"•  In  a  faint,  mother  ;  but  you  have  come 
out  of  it  now, 'and  1  hope  will  be  none  the 
worse  after  a  little,"  the  doctor  answered 
cheerfully.  But  ere  the  words  had  left  his 
lips  memory  had  resumed  her  sway. 

"  Oh,  my  sons  !"  she  cried,  "  my  Rupert 
and  Don  !  Can  it  be  true  that  I  shall  see 
them  no  more  upon  earth  ?  Have  they  been 
cut  off  in  the  pride  and  beauty  of  their  early 
manhood  by  a  savage  foe  ?  O  Lord,  lead  me 
to  the  Rock  that  is  higher  than  I,  for  my 
heart  is  overwhelmed  !"  she  cried,  clasping 
her  hands  and  lifting  her  streaming  eyes  to 
heaven. 

"  Dear  mother,"  sobbed  Mildred,  leaning 
over  her  in  tenderest  solicitude,  "  if  they  are 
gone  from  earth,  it  is  to  the  better  land,  where 
pain  and  sin  and  sorrow  are  unknown,  and 
where  you  will  one  day  join  them  and  all 
your  loved  ones.  But  it  may  not  be  true  ; 
there  is  no  certainty  yet  ;  it  is  but  a  rumor." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  195 

1 '  Then  how  cruel  to  tell  me, ' '  she  sighed  ; 
*'  and  to  add  that  I  was  to  blame  for  their 
going.  Ah,  God  knows  I  have  tried  to  train 
them  for  heaven,  and  not  to  set  their  affections 
upon  the  perishing  things  of  time  and  sense. ' ' 

"  Yes,  mother,  your  children  can  all  tes 
tify  to  that,"  Mildred  said  ;  Zillah  adding, 
"  Indeed  we  can  ;  if  any  of  us  are  worldly- 
minded  it  is  not  the  fault  of  either  of  our 
parents.  And  it  was  not  the  love  of  gold 
that  sent  our  dear  brothers  on  that  journey  ; 
one  was  seeking  health,  the  other  went  to 
take  care  of  him  and  with  a  longing  for 
change  and  exciting  adventure. ' ' 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Keith  came  in  with 
a  letter  in  his  hand.  His  face  was  brighter 
and  happier  than  they  had  seen  it  for  many 
days,  eagerness  and  anxiety  mingling  with  its 
gladness. 

"  From  Don  to  you,  my  dear,"  he  cried, 
holding  the  letter  high,  with  its  address  tow 
ard  her. 

"  Oh,  then  it  is  not  true  !  not  true  !"  was 
the  simultaneous,  joyful  exclamation  from  his 
daughters  ;  and  Mildred,  embracing  the  weep 
ing  invalid,  said,  "  Do  you  hear,  dearest 
mother  ?  A  letter  from  Don,  and  you  may 
dry  your  tears." 


196  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Her  husband  held  it  out  to  her  with  a  glad 
and  loving  smile. 

She  grasped  it  eagerly,  but  in  vain  hei 
trembling  fingers  essayed  to  tear  it  open. 

"  Let  me,  dear  wife,"  he  said,  taking  it 
gently  from  her. 

"  Read  it,"  she  said  feebly  ;  "  my  eyes 
are  dim.  Oh,  my  Rupert  !  is  he  living 
also  ?" 

Mr.  Keith  glanced  down  the  page,  let  the 
letter  fall,  and  dropped  his  face  into  his  hands 
with  a  heart-rending  groan. 

Zillah  snatched  it  from  the  floor,  her  hand 
trembling  like  an  aspen  leaf,  her  face  over 
spread  with  a  deathly  pallor. 

"  My  son,  my  son,  my  first-born  son  !" 
sobbed  Mrs.  Keith,  "  gone,  gone  in  that 
dreadful  way  !  Yet,  thank  God  that  dear 
Don  is  left.  And  blessed  be  His  holy  name 
that  He  lives  and  reigns,  and  none  can  stay 
His  hand  or  say  unto  Him,  What  doest 
thou?" 

"  Read,  some  one,"  groaned  the  father  ; 
"I  cannot!" 

Zillah  silently  handed  the  letter  to  the  doc 
tor,  and  he  read  it  in  low,  moved  tones,  often 
interrupted  by  the  bitter  weeping  of  his  lis 
teners. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  197 

Bupert's  death  was  a  heavy  blow  ;  for  a 
time  his  parents  seemed  wellnigh  crushed  by 
it,  yet  not  a  murmur  was  ever  heard  from 
either  ;  the  language  of  their  lips  and  lives 
was,  "  '  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust 
in  Him.'  " 

The  manner  of  their  son's  death  made  it 
the  hardest  blow  they  had  ever  received  ;  yet 
as  the  months  rolled  on  they  learned  to  speak 
calmly  and  tenderly  of  him  as  having  gone 
before  to  the  heavenly  home  whither  they 
themselves  would  soon  follow. 

Don's  letter  received  a  reply  in  due  sea 
son.  It  said  his  speedy  return  would  be  joy 
fully  welcomed,  yet  as  he  was  now  on  the 
ground,  he  was  free  to  stay  for  a  time  if  such 
were  his  choice  ;  so  he  remained,  fascinated 
by  the  hope  of  success  in  his  search  for  gold, 
and  feeling  a  great  repugnance  to  going  back 
and  facing  his  townsmen  without  having  se 
cured  at  least  a  moderate  portion  of  that 
which  he  had  come  so  far  to  find. 


"  No  day  discolored  with  domestic  strife  ; 
No  jealousy,  but  mutual  truth  believ'd, 
Secure  repose,  and  kindness  undeceived." 

— DRYDKN. 

MONTHS  and  years  glided  swiftly  by,  bring 
ing  to  the  Keiths  only  such  changes  as  they 
will  bring  to  all  :  added  gray  hairs  and  wrin 
kles,  and  a  decrease  of  strength,  vigor,  and 
energy  to  the  old  people  ;  to  the  younger 
married  ones,  an  added  staidness  and  dignity 
of  demeanor  and  more  olive-branches  about 
their  tables  ;  while  Annis  had  grown  from 
the  merry,  romping  child  into  a  tall,  slender 
maiden,  even  more  comely  than  the  child  had 
been,  but  with  a  quieter  step  and  often  a 
dreamy,  far-away  look  in  the  sweet  blue  eyes. 

She  was  the  joy  of  her  parents'  hearts, 
the  very  light  of  their  eyes,  the  only  child 
left  at  home  ;  for  Cyril,  having  completed  his 
college  course,  had  entered  a  theological  semi 
nary  and  was  preparing  to  go  into  the  min 
istry. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  199 

There  had  been  all  along  a  constant  inter 
change  of  letters  with  their  relatives  at  the 
Oaks,  particularly  brisk  on  the  part  of  Annis 
and  Elsie,  and  they  each  knew  almost  as 
much  of  the  thoughts,  feelings,  and  experi 
ences  of  the  other  as  though  they  had  lived 
together  all  these  years. 

Letters  from  the  Oaks  were  always  joy 
fully  welcomed,  yet  were  esteemed  as  nothing 
in  comparison  with  those  that  came  occasion 
ally  from  Ada  and  Don,  the  former  of  whom 
had  become  the  happy  mother  of  two  chil 
dren,  whom  she  described  as  very  sweet  and 
lovable,  adding  that  she  had  a  great  longing 
to  show  them  to  her  father  and  mother.  And 
it  was  perhaps  not  greater  than  the  desire  of 
the  grandparents  to  see  them,  though  that 
was  far  outweighed  by  their  thirst  for  a  sight 
of  the  mother's  face. 

Mildred  was  still  the  devoted  daughter  she 
had  been  in  earlier  days,  nor  less  faithful  in 
all  that  concerned  the  welfare  of  husband  and 
children.  She  looked  well  to  the  ways  of  her 
household,  nor  ever  ate  the  bread  of  idleness. 
She  was  a  careful  housekeeper,  allowing  no 
waste,  yet  most  liberal  in  paying  for  every  ser 
vice  done  for  her  or  hers,  and  never  stinting 
in  the  provision  for  the  wants  of  her  family. 


200  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Her  table  was  always  bountifully  pro 
vided,  her  house  neat  and  clean,  her  children 
well  and  tastefully  dressed,  her  husband's 
wardrobe  carefully  looked  to  ;  nor  did  she 
neglect  the  souls,  minds,  or  bodies  of  her  chil 
dren.  Their  physical  well-being  was  to  her  a 
matter  of  very  great  importance,  and  while 
assiduously  cultivating  their  minds  and  hearts, 
letting  them  never  want  for  mother-love  and 
tender  caresses,  she  watched  over  the  health 
of  each  with  untiring  vigilance. 

And  she  had  her  reward  in  their  rosy 
cheeks,  bounding  steps,  constant  flow  of  ani 
mal  spirits,  and  devoted  love  to  their  parents,, 
especially  their  mother  ;  also  in  their  kind 
ness  and  affection  toward  each  other. 

They  were  a  very  happy  family,  a  joy  of 
heart  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Keith,  as  were  Zillah'a 
children  also,  she  having  greatly  improved  in 
her  management  as  a  mother  since  the  baby 
hood  of  her  first  child. 

It  was  spring-time  again,  the  evenings  still 
cool  enough  for  a  little  fire  to  be  very  enjoy 
able.  In  Dr.  Landreth's  cosey  sitting-room  a 
bright  wood  fire  blazed  cheerily  on  the  open 
hearth.  The  doctor  himself  sat  over  it  alone 
and  in  meditative  mood. 

Mildred  had  left  the  room  a  moment  be- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  201 

fore  to  see  her  children  to  bed,  a  duty  she 
never  neglected,  and  not  only  a  duty,  but  a 
pleasure  also,  for  it  gave  opportunity  for  many 
a  sweet  interchange  of  demonstrations  of  affec 
tion  and  many  a  childish  confidence  to  mother 
which  otherwise  might  have  been  withheld  ; 
also — the  young  hearts  being  warm,  the  feel 
ings  tender — she  found  it  the  best  of  all  sea 
sons  for  sowing  good  seed  that  might  one  day 
spring  up  and  grow  and  bear  fruit  unto  ever 
lasting  life. 

The  doctor's  meditations  seemed  not  un 
pleasant,  if  one  might  judge  from  the  calm 
and  placid  expression  of  his  countenance  ;  yet 
occasionally  there  was  a  passing  shade  of 
doubt  or  anxiety. 

He  looked  up  with  a  smile  as  Mildred  re- 
entered  the  room.  "  Come  and  sit  by  my 
side,  dear  wife,"  he  said,  "  and  let  us  have  a 
little  confidential  chat.  Do  you  know  what  I 
have  been  thinking,  sitting  here  alone  ?"  he 
asked,  as  she  took  the  offered  seat  and  his  arm 
stole  round  her  waist  in  very  lover-like  fash 
ion. 

"  No,  my  dear  ;  how  should  I  ?"  she  an 
swered,  with  a  smile.  "  Of  your  patients,  I 
presume  ;  some  case  of  obscure  and  difficult 
diagnosis." 


202  11ILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  Ah,  you  are  wide  of  the  mark,"  he 
returned,  with  a  light  laugh.  "  No ;  my 
thoughts  were  principally  of  the  presiding 
genius  of  my  happiest  of  homes,  and  I  am 
ready  to  echo  the  words  of  the  wise  man,  '  A 
prudent  wife  is  from  the  Lord. '  '  "Whoso 
findeth  a  wife,  findeth  a  good  thing,  and  ob- 
taineth  favor  of  the  Lord.'  " 

"  You're  satisfied  with  yours  ?"  she  said 
inquiringly,  and  with  a  glad  look  up  into  hi& 
face. 

"  More  than  satisfied  !  Milly,  love,  you 
are  my  greatest  earthly  treasure  ;  dearer  far 
to  me  now  than  the  day  we  were  married, 
though  then  I  was  sure  I  loved  you  as  never 
man  loved  woman  before." 

11  How  you  gladden  my  heart,  my  dearest 
and  kindest  of  husbands,"  she  said,  in  low, 
moved  tones.  "  And  my  experience  is  the 
same  as  yours  ;  I  loved  you  dearly  when  we 
were  married,  but  I  love  you  ten  times  as 
dearly  now.  How  sweet  it  is  to  live  together 
as  we  do,  with  hearts  so  closely  united,  and 
ever  sharing  each  other's  joys  and  sorrows  ! 
Burdens  thus  divided  are  so  much  easier 
to  bear,  while  joys  are  doubled  in  the  shar 
ing." 

"  Yes,  it  is  so,"  he  said. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  203 

"  'Then  come  the  wild  weather — come  sleet  or  coma 

snow, 

"We  will  stand  by  each  other,  however  it  blow  ; 
Oppression  and  sickness,  and  sorrow  and  pain, 
Shall  be  to  our  true  love  as  links  to  the  chain.'  " 

They  talked  of  their  children,  now  three 
in  number  ;  of  their  various  dispositions,  and 
the  best  mode  of  managing  and  training 
each. 

After  that,  breaking  a  pause  in  the  conver 
sation,  the  doctor  said,  "  By  the  way,  Milly, 
I  received  a  letter  to-day  from  a  second  cousin 
of  mine,  telling  me  that  a  daughter  of  hers,  a 
young  lady,  is  in  poor  health,  needing  change 
of  climate  and  scene,  her  physician  says,  and 
asking  if  I  am  willing  to  take  her  under  my 
care  for  a  time,  probably  until  next  fall.  My 
love,  would  you  like  to  take  her  into  the 
family?" 

"  1  am  quite  willing  if  it  is  your  wish,  my 
dear,"  Mildred  answered,  but  with  a  slight 
sigh  ;  they  were  so  happy  and  peaceful  by 
themselves,  and  this  stranger  might  prove  an 
element  of  discord. 

"  It  is  not  my  wish  if  at  all  unpleasant  to 
you,  wife,"  he  said,  with  affectionate  look 
and  tone.  "  1  fear  it  may  add  to  your  cares 
and  labors  ;  yet  Flora  Weston  may  prove  one 


204  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

of  those  bright,  merry,  winsome  young  things 
that  are  like  a  fresh  breeze  in  a  house." 

"  Perhaps  so  ;  and  we  are  told  to  use  hos 
pitality  one  to  another  without  grudging," 
Mildred  added,  with  a  pleasant  look  and 
emile.  "  Write  her  at  once,  Charlie,  if  you 
feel  inclined.  I  am  glad  of  an  opportunity 
to  show  some  attention  to  a  relative  of 
yours. ' ' 

"Just  like  you,  Milly,"  he  responded, 
with  a  gratified  look. 

The  letter  was  sent  the  next  day,  and  a 
few  weeks  later  Miss  Weston  arrived. 

She  seemed  a  rather  commonplace  girl, 
quiet  and  undemonstrative.  Mildred  found  it 
a  task  to  entertain  her,  even  with  the  assist 
ance  her  mother  and  sisters  could  give,  and 
they  did  all  that  lay  in  their  power.  She  did 
not  sew,  she  cared  very  little  for  reading,  she 
had  strength  for  only  very  short  walks  ;  she 
was  no  talker,  and  seldom  seemed  to  care  to 
listen. 

Annis  soon  voted  her  an  intolerable  bore, 
yet,  to  relieve  Milly,  spent  several  hours  of 
every  day  in  her  society.  The  doctor  did  his 
share  by  taking  her  with  him  whenever  he 
drove  into  the  country.  He  made  many  at 
tempts  to  draw  her  out,  hoth  then  and  when 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  205 

he  had  an  evening  at  home,  but,  not  succeed 
ing,  finally  came  to  the  conclusion  that  there 
was  nothing  in  her. 

He  would  have  wholly  regretted  having 
invited  her  but  that  her  health  presently  be 
gan  to  improve  under  his  treatment. 

Meanwhile  Flora  was  silently  observing  all 
that  went  on  in  the  family,  especially  study 
ing  Mildred  ;  and  at  length  her  manner — 
which  had  at  first  been  very  cold  and  distant 
— gradually  changed  till  there  was  at  times  a 
warmth  of  affection  in  it. 

"  You  are  so  kind  to  me,  Cousin  Mildred," 
she  said  one  day  ;  "  you  have  never  neglected 
anything  that  could  add  to  my  comfort,  and 
have  always  shown  so  much  sympathy  for  my 
invalidism ;  far  more  than  ever  my  own 
mother  did,"  she  added,  in  a  bitter  tone. 
"  Mother  is  very  good  and  pious,  but  she  has 
never  taken  any  care  of  her  children's  health  ; 
she  is  duly  anxious  about  our  souls,  but  neg 
lects  our  bodies.  I  must  acknowledge  that  I 
came  here  strongly  prejudiced  against  you, 
simply  because  I  had  heard  you  were  very 
pious,  and  the  way  I  have  been  brought  up 
had  made  me  hate  piety,  hate  the  Bible  and 
prayer." 

"  O  Flora  !  and  you  the  child  of  a  Chris- 


206  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

tian  mother  !"  cried  Mildred,  in  a  shocked 
tone. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  mother  is  a  real  Chris 
tian,  and  I  don't  wonder  you  are  shocked  at 
what  I  have  said.  But  if  she  had  brought 
me  up  as  you  do  your  children,  I  am  sure  I 
should  have  felt  quite  differently.  Is  it  any 
wonder  I  hate  the  Bible  when,  instead  of  being 
entertained  when  good  with  beautiful  stories 
out  of  it,  I  was  always  punished  when  partic 
ularly  naughty  by  being  forced  to  read  a  cer 
tain  number  of  chapters  in  proportion  to  the 
extent  of  my  delinquency,  and  commit  so 
many  verses  to  memory  ;  besides  being  prayed 
over — a  long  tedious  prayer,  half  of  which  I 
did  not  understand  ?" 

"  I  have  always  tried  to  make  the  Bible  a 
delight  to  my  children,"  said  Mildred,  "  and 
I  think  it  is.  O  Flora,  I  feel  very  sorry  for 
you  that  you  do  not  appreciate  its  beauty  and 
sweetness  !  Are  you  not  old  enough  now  to 
put  away  your  unfortunate  prejudice  and 
learn  to  love  it  as  God's  own  word  given  to 
teach  us  how  to  obtain  eternal  life — telling 
the  old,  old  story,  the  sweet,  sweet  story  of 
Jesus  and  His  love  ?" 

"  I  have  begun  to  like  it  better  since  I 
came  here,"  Flora  answered,  with  an  abashed 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  207 

look.  "  I  have  really  enjoyed  the  Bible  sto 
ries  I  have  overheard  you  telling  the  chil 
dren  ;  and  somehow  religion  seems  a  lovelier 
thing  as  1  see  it  exhibited  in  your  life  and  the 
lives  of  Cousin  Charlie  and  your  parents  and 
sisters,  than  as  my  mother  practises  it." 

"  It  grieves  me  to  hear  a  daughter  speak 
so  of  her  mother,"  Mildred  said  gently. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be  unkind  or  disrespect 
ful  toward  her,"  replied  Flora,  "  but  I  wish 
to  make  you  understand  how  I  came  to  feel 
such  a  prejudice  against  piety,  and  against 
you  because  I  had  been  told  you  were  very 
pious. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  mother  is  good  and  sin 
cere,  and  not  at  all  puffed  up  and  self-right 
eous  ;  but  I  think  she  makes  great  mistake* 
which  prejudice  people  against  her  religion. 

"  Now,  my  father  is  not  a  pious  man,  and 
some  things  mother  does,  and  her  refusal  to 
do  some  other  things,  have  so  turned  him 
against  religion  that  he  never  goes  inside  of  a 
church-door. 

"  For  one  thing,  mother  won't  dress  like 
other  ladies.  He  wants  to  see  her  well 
dressed,  but  she  makes  it  a  part  of  her  relig 
ion  to  go  looking  old-fashioned  and  really 
dowdy.  Father  buys  her  handsome  things, 


208  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

and  she  won't  wear  them  ;  she  gives  them 
a  way.  or  cuts  them  up  for  the  children,  and  I 
don't  wonder  he  won't  go  to  church  with  her. 
I  am  pretty  sure  he  might  have  become  a  reg 
ular  attendant  if  she  would  only  have  dressed 
to  suit  him. 

"  And  sometimes  she  gets  out  of  her 
warm  bed,  in  a  cold  winter  night,  and  goes 
off  into  a  room  where  there  is  no  fire,  and 
stays  there  for  an  hour  or  more — in  her  bare 
feet  and  her  night-dress — praying.  Then  she 
comes  back  chilled  through  ;  probably  has  a 
dreadful  cold  the  next  day,  and  that  makes 
father  mad,  and  he  lays  it  all  to  her  religion. 

"  I  love  my  mother,  Cousin  Mildred,  but 
I  can't  help  blaming  her  for  at  least  a  part  of 
my  sufferings.  As  I  have  told  you,  she  has 
never  taken  any  care  of  her  children's  health  ; 
if  our  food  was  improperly  cooked,  it  was  a 
matter  of  no  importance  ;  and  just  so  if  our 
clothing,  beds,  or  bedding  were  left  unaired, 
or  if  any  other  sanitary  measure  were  disre 
garded.  We  were  often  forced  to  eat  and 
sleep  in  a  close,  almost  stifling  atmosphere  ; 
we  wore  our  winter  clothes  into  the  heat  of 
summer,  and  our  thin  summer  clothing  far  on 
into  the  damp,  cold  days  of  autumn  and  early 
winter. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  209 

"  Then,  too,  when  I  began  to  complain  of 
this  dreadful  pain  in  my  back,  no  notice  was 
taken,  and  1  was  expected  to  do  as  much  as  if 
I  were  perfectly  well  and  strong  ;  she  would 
not  hire  as  much  help  as  she  might,  as  father 
was  quite  willing  she  should,  and  I  was  often 
left  to  do  everything  while  she  spent  hours  at 
a  time  in  her  closet. 

"  I've  thought  sometimes  that  life  would 
have  been  easier  for  me  if  I'd  had  a  worldly- 
minded  mother  who  would  have  taken  some 
care  of  my  health.  And  I  expected  to  find 
you  the  same  kind  of  Christian,  but  you  are 
very  different." 

"  I  fear  the  difference  is  not  all  in  my 
favor,"  Mildred  said. 

"  But  don't  you  think  health  ought  to  be 
taken  care  of?"  asked  Flora.     "I  have  no 
ticed  that  you  are  very  careful  of  your  chil 
dren's,  as  well  as  of  their  morals  and  man 
ners." 

"  Yes,"  Mildred  said,  "  I  think  the  Bible 
teaches  very  plainly  that  we  are  to  be  careful 
of  our  bodies.  '  What  ?  know  ye  not  that 
your  body  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
which  is  in  you,  which  ye  have  of  God,  and 
ye  are  not  your  own  ? '  Health  is  one  of 
God's  good  gifts  and  not  to  be  despised  ;  it  is 


210  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

one  of  the  greatest  of  temporal  blessings  ;  be- 
eides,  to  be  careless  of  it  is  to  lessen  our  ability 
to  work  for  God,  and  probably  to  shorten  our 
lives  ;  which  we  certainly  have  no  right  to  do. 

11  But,  Flora,  perhaps  I  am  not  so  different 
from  your  mother  as  you  think  ;  I,  too,  love 
to  spend  an  hour  alone  in  communion  with 
my  best  Friend  ;  and  I  do  not  find  it  time 
lost,  for  thus  I  gather  strength  for  the  duties, 
trials,  and  temptations  of  life.  I  never  could 
meet  them  without  the  strength  and  wisdom 
that  He  gives  in  answer  to  prayer. ' ' 

"But  you  don't  seem  to  neglect  other 
duties  for  that,"  Flora  said,  with  an  earnest, 
inquiring  look  at  Mildred. 

"I  hope  not,"  was  the  answer;  "the 
Bible  tells  us  there  is  a  time  for  everything, 
and  it  bids  us  '  be  diligent  in  business  ;  '  but 
also  '  fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord.'  It 
tells  us,  *  In  everything  give  thanks,'  and  also 
bids  us  '  pray  without  ceasing  ; '  so  that  it  is 
evident  that  we  need  not  always  retire  into 
the  closet  to  talk  with  our  heavenly  Father, 
but  that  while  our  hands  are  busy  with  the 
work  He  has  given  us  to  do,  we  may,  and 
should  be,  ever  and  anon  lifting  up  our  hearts 
in  siient  prayer  to  Him. 

"  O  Flora,  what  a  blessed  privilege  it  is  to 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  211 

be  permitted  to  do  that  at  all  times  and  in  all 
places  !  when  in  doubt  to  ask  Him  for  wisdom 
and  guidance,  though  it  be  in  regard  to  but  a 
seemingly  trivial  matter  (for  great  events 
often  hang  upon  trifles),  when  tempted  to 
indolence,  petulance,  censoriousness,  or  any 
other  sin,  to  be  able  on  the  instant  to  send  up 
a  cry  for  strength  to  resist  ;  a  cry  to  Him 
who  is  the  hearer  and  answerer  of  prayer,  and 
who  has  all  power  in  heaven  and  in  earth* 
Or  if  danger  threatens  one's  self  or  one's  dear 
ones,  what  a  relief  to  be  able  to  call  at  once 
for  help  to  One  who  is  mighty  to  save  !' ' 

Flora  was  in  a,  for  her,  surprisingly  talka 
tive  mood.  "  Cousin  Mildred,"  she  said,  "  1 
have  been  admiring  the  good  behavior  of  your 
children  ever  since  I  came  here.  They  are  so 
obedient,  so  gentle-mannered,  and  so  polite  to 
you  and  their  father,  to  each  other,  and  indeed 
to  everybody.  How  have  you  managed  to 
make  them  so  ?" 

"  There  is  no  great  secret  about  it,"  Mil 
dred  said,  smiling.  "  We  try  to  teach  them 
politeness  and  consideration  for  others  by  both 
precept  and  example  ;  my  husband  is  always 
quite  as  polite  and  attentive  to  me  as  he  could 
be  to  any  strange  lady  guest.  I  try  to  be  the 
same  to  him,  and  we  both  treat  our  children 


212  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

in  the  same  manner  ;  we  never  give  a  com 
mand  when  a  request  will  answer  as  well,  and 
we  seldom  meet  with  any  hesitation  in  obedi 
ence  ;  but  if  we  do,  I  assure  you  we  resort  to 
command,  and  enforce  it,  too." 

"  Do  you  teach  them  they  must  obey  be 
cause  you  are  their  parents?"  asked  Flora, 
with  a  look  of  keen  curiosity. 

"  Certainly  we  do,"  Mildred  answered,  in 
some  surprise. 

"  I  once  read  a  description  of  a  very  nice 
kind  of  mother,"  explained  Flora — "  at  least 
the  author  evidently  meant  her  for  a  model — 
and  one  thing  he  said  in  her  praise  was  that 
she  never  claimed  a  right  to  her  child's  obedi 
ence  on  the  plea  that  she  was  his  mother. ' ' 

"Then,"  said  Mildred  gravely,  "  he  was 
either  unacquainted  with  the  teachings  of 
God's  Word,  or  had  no  respect  for  them,  for 
there  are  very  many  passages  that  teach  chil 
dren  the  duty  of  obedience  to  parents,  and 
others  that  command  parents  to  see  to  it  that 
their  children  are  obedient  to  them. 

"  There  is  the  fifth  commandment,  -l  Honor 
thy  father  and  thy  mother  :  that  thy  days  may 
be  long  upon  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy 
God  giveth  thee.'  Again,  '  Children,  obey 
your  parents  in  the  Lord  :  for  this  is  right.' 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  213 

'  Honor  thy  father  and  mother  ;  which  is  the 
first  commandment  with  promise.'  *  My  son, 
keep  thy  father's  commandment,  and  forsake 
not  the  law  of  thy  mother,'  and  many  others. 

"  Then  to  parents,  *  Correct  thy  son,  and 
he  shall  give  thee  rest ;  yea,  he  shall  give  de 
light  unto  thy  soul,'  and  many  others  of  like 
import ;  while  Solomon  tells  us,  l  A  child  left 
to  himself  bringeth  his  mother  to  shame. ' 

"  And  how  sorely  Eli  was  punished  for  not 
restraining  his  sons  when  they  made  them 
selves  vile.  Also  God  says,  in  commendation 
of  Abraham,  '  I  know  him,  that  he  will  com 
mand  his  children  and  his  household  after 
him,  and  they  shall  keep  the  way  of  the  Lord 
to  do  justice  and  judgment. '  And  do  you 
not  remember  that  under  the  Levitical  lav/  the 
punishment  of  a  refusal  to  be  obedient  to 
parents  was  death  ?' ' 

' '  Is  that  so  ?  I  had  quite  forgotten  it, " 
said  Flora. 

Mildred  opened  a  Bible,  and  turning  to 
the  twenty-first  chapter  of  Deuteronomy,  read 
aloud,  "  '  If  a  man  have  a  stubborn  and  re 
bellious  son,  which  will  not  obey  the  voice  of 
his  father,  or  the  voice  of  his  mother,  and 
that,  when  they  have  chastened  him,  will  not 
hearken  unto  them  :  then  shall  his  father  and 


214  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

his  mother  lay  hold  on  him,  and  bring  him 
out  unto  the  elders  of  his  city,  and  unto  the 
gate  of  his  place  ;  and  they  shall  say  unto  the 
elders  of  his  city,  This  our  son  is  stubborn 
and  rebellious,  he  will  not  obey  our  voice  ;  he 
is  a  glutton,  and  a  drunkard.  And  all  the 
men  of  his  city  shall  stone  him  with  stones, 
that  he  die  ;  so  shalt  thou  put  evil  away  from 
among  you  ;  and  all  Israel  shall  hear  and 
fear.'  " 

"  1  acknowledge  that  you  have  proved 
your  case  against  my  author,"  said  Flora 
thoughtfully  ;  "  either  he  was  ignorant  of  the 
teachings  of  Scripture  on  that  point,  or  he 
chose  to  disregard  them  ;  which  nobody  has  a 
right  to  do." 

"No,  that  is  true,"  said  Mildred;  "as 
the  Word  of  God,  whose  creatures  we  are,  it 
should  be  to  all  of  us  the  rule  of  faith  and 
practice  ;  a  tribunal  from  which  there  is  no 
appeal ;  whose  decisions  are  final." 

"  1  have  noticed,"  remarked  Flora,  "  that 
you  all  seem  to  regard  it  in  that  light,  and  to 
have  a  great  love  for  it  too." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mildred  ;  "  and  no  wonder  ; 
its  precious  promises  have  been  our  comfort 
and  support  in  many  trials — some  of  them 
very  heavy.  I  think  those  sweet  promises 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  215 

were  all  that  kept  my  mother's  heart  from 
breaking  when  she  heard  that  her  two  sons 
had  been  killed  by  the  Indians." 

"It  must  have  been  dreadful,"  Flora 
said,  with  sympathy  ;  "  but  it  wasn't  true  ?" 

Not  of  both,  but  of  one,"  Mildred  an 
swered,  with  emotion.  "  Oh,  my  dear,  dear 
brother  !"  she  cried,  in  a  sudden  burst  of 
grief. 

Flora  went  to  her  and  put  her  arms  about 
her.  "Don't  weep  so,"  she  said;  "think 
how  happy  he  is  where  he  has  gone,  and  how 
safe  ;  no  one  can  ever  make  him  suffer  again.' ' 

"  I  know  ;  and  what  a  comfort  it  is  !"  said 
Mildred  ;  "  what  joy  in  the  thought  that  we 
shall  all  meet  at  last  in  that  blessed  land, 
never  to  part  again,  and  to  be  forever  with 
the  Lord!" 

From  that  day  Flora  seemed  a  changed 
girl,  ready  to  talk  and  to  take  an  interest  in 
those  about  her,  to  appreciate  and  respond  to 
their  efforts  to  entertain  her,  and  particularly 
demonstrative  and  affectionate  toward  Mil- 
dred. 


THE    RETURN. 

"  Joy  never  feasts  so  high 
As  when  the  first  course  is  of  misery." 

— SUCKLIMQ. 

ON  a  pleasant  October  day  the  three  fami 
lies — including  Miss  "Weston — were  gathered 
at  Mr.  Keith's  for  a  family  tea-party  ;  no  very 
unusual  occurrence. 

The  railroad  had  recently  reached  Pleasant 
Plains,  and  a  few  minutes  before  the  call  to 
tea  the  whistle  of  the  afternoon  train  from  the 
West  had  been  heard. 

They  had  but  just  seated  themselves  about 
the  table,  and  Mr.  Keith  had  asked  a  blessing 
on  the  food,  when  the  door  opened,  and  a 
stranger  entered  unannounced. 

Every  one  looked  up  in  surprise  as  he 
stood  silently  gazing  at  the  mother. 

The  next  instant  she  sprang  up  with  a 
joyful  cry  and  threw  herself  into  his  out 
stretched  arms,  weeping  hysterically. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  217 

"  Don  !"  was  the  simultaneous  exclama 
tion  from  the  others,  and  they  gathered  about 
him  laughing  and  crying  in  joyous  excite 
ment. 

Yes,  it  was  Don,  and  no  other — Don  who 
went  away  a  smooth-faced  boy,  and  had  come 
back  a  bearded  man. 

With  what  a  rapture  of  delight  they 
embraced  and  welcomed  him ;  yet  delight 
mingled  with  grief,  for  how  could  they  forget 
that  two  had  gone  out  from  them,  and  but 
one  had  returned  ?  Celestia  Ann  stood  out 
side  of  the  circle,  leaning  her  back  against  the 
wall  and  gazing  at  Don,  the  big  tears  stream 
ing  down  her  homely  but  kindly  face  ;  at 
length,  stepping  forward,  she  caught  his  hand 
in  a  vise-like  grasp,  saying,  "  It's  Mister 
Don,  sure  enough,  though  I  wouldn't  a 
knowed  him  by  his  looks.  They've  all  been 
a-buggin'  and  kissin'  of  you,  and  now  it's  my 
turn,"  catching  him  round  the  neck  and  giv 
ing  him  a  resounding  kiss.  "  You'll  not  mind, 
will  you  ?  seem'  as  I've  know'd  ye  ever  since 
you  was  a  little  feller — a  mere  baby,  as  one 
may  say." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  find  you  here  still, 
Celestia  Ann,"  Don  said,  with  a  good- 
humored  laugh  ;  "  and  1  don't  object  to  the 


218  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

heartiness  of  your  welcome  ;  for  1  haven't  had 
a  kiss  from  a  woman  since  I  left  home,  until 
to-day." 

"  Well,  no  ;  I  reckon  not  ;  1  shouldn't 
never  b'lieve  you  was  the  kind  of  a  feller  to 
be  a-kissin'  strange  women  folks.  But  now 
why  on  airth  don't  ye  all  set  down  and  eat  ? 
Mr.  Don  must  be  awful  hungry  a-comin'  all 
the  way  from  Calif orny  here." 

"  Most  assuredly,  if  he  has  had  nothing  to 
eat  since  he  started,"  laughed  the  doctor,  re 
suming  his  place  at  the  table,  all  the  others 
doing  likewise. 

Then  they  remembered  to  introduce  the 
returned  wanderer  to  Flora,  who  had  been  a 
silent  but  not  unmoved  spectator  of  the  little 
scene. 

Far  more  talking  than  eating  ensued. 

Don  did  greater  justice  to  the  viands  than 
most  of  the  others,  who  were  much  occupied 
in  looking  at  and  listening  to  him  ;  his  mother 
especially.  She  feasted  her  eyes  on  his  face, 
and  lost  not  a  tone  of  the  voice  she  had  for 
years  feared  she  might  never  hear  again  this 
side  the  grave. 

And  he  was  perforce  the  chief  speaker, 
though  he  had  many  questions  to  ask  of  rela 
tives,  friends,  and  acquaintance. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  219 

Parents,  sisters,  and  brothers-in-law  wanted 
to  know  all  he  had  seen,  done,  and  suffered, 
and  plied  him  with  questions  till  his  mother 
remarked  they  were  making  him  talk  too 
much  and  giving  him  no  chance  to  eat. 

"  And  it  is  the  very  best  meal  I  have  sat 
down  to  since  I  went  away  nearly  four  yeara 
ago  ;  I  ought  to  be  allowed  to  do  it  justice," 
laughed  Don. 

They  were  a  long  while  at  the  table  ;  yet 
Celestia  Ann  showed  no  impatience,  though 
usually  in  great  haste  to  "  get  the  table  cleared 
and  the  dishes  washed  up." 

But  at  last  they  all  withdrew  to  the 
parlor. 

It  was  verging  upon  ten  o'clock,  yet  no 
one  seemed  to  have  thought  of  bed,  though 
Don  might  well  have  been  supposed  to  be 
tired  with  his  long  and  wearisome  journey. 
Mildred  and  Zillah  had  taken  their  babies 
home,  seen  them  safely  to  bed,  and,  leaving 
them  in  the  care  of  their  nurses,  returned  to 
the  circle  gathered  in  the  parlor  of  their 
father's  house. 

Don  was  telling  some  of  his  adventures, 
and  no  one  but  Celestia  Ann  in  the  kitchen 
noticed  the  ringing  of  the  door-bell. 

She,  hastening  to  answer  it,  found  a  tall 


220  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

man,  wearing  a  very  heavy  beard  and  mus 
tache,  standing  there. 

"  Good-evening,"  he  said,  with  a  polite 
inclination  of  the  head  ;  "  is  my — is  Mrs. 
Keith  in  ?" 

Celestia  Ann  staggered  back,  turning  very 
pale  in  the  light  of  the  lamp  that  hung  sus 
pended  from  the  ceiling.  "  I — I  should  say 
I  knowed  that  voice  if — if  the  feller  that 
owned  it  hadn't  been  killed  dead  by  the  In 
juns  more'n  three  years  back  ;  leastways  so  we 
hearn  tell,"  she  gasped.  "Be  ye  Rupert 
Keith,  or  his  ghost  ?" 

"I  am  no  ghost,  Celestia  Ann,"  he  said 
with  a  smile.  "  Reports  are  sometimes  quite 
untrue,  as  was  the  one  you  speak  of. " 

She  grasped  his  hand,  and  burst  out  sob 
bing  for  very  joy. 

"  There,  there  !"  he  said  kindly,  "  I  am 
afraid  mother  will  hear  and  be  alarmed.  If 
she  should  hurry  out  and  find  me  here — so 
unexpectedly,  it  might  be  more  than  she  could 
well  bear. ' ' 

"  Yes,  she'd  ought  to  be  prepared  ;  'spe 
cially  as  she's  had  one  great  surprise  a' ready 
to  day  in  Don's  comin' — " 

"  What,  is  Don  here  ?  just  returned  ?"  he 
cried.  "  Oh,  but  that  is  good  news  !  They're 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  221 

in  the  parlor,  I  think  ;  I'll  go  into  the  sitting- 
room  and  get  you  to  call  Dr.  Landreth  ont 
(the  rest  will  suppose  he's  wanted  to  see  a 
patient),  and  he  can  prepare  my  mother." 

"A  first-rate  plan,  Mr.  Rupert,"  said 
Celestia  Ann.  Waiting  till  he  reached  the 
door  of  the  sitting-room,  she  opened  that  of 
the  parlor. 

"Doctor,"  she  said,  "there's  a  man  out 
here  a-wantin'  to  speak  to  ye." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  it  isn't  a  call  to  the  country, " 
remarked  Mildred,  as  her  husband  made  haste 
to  obey  the  summons. 

The  conversation  in  the  parlor  went  on, 
no  one  supposing  the  caller  a  person  in  whom 
any  of  them  had  an  interest. 

As  the  doctor  entered  the  sitting-room  the 
stranger  rose  and  held  out  his  hand.  "  Very 
glad  to  see  you  again,  Dr.  Landreth.  You 
have  not  forgotten  me  ?"  he  said  inquiringly, 
and  with  a  humorous  look. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have,  sir  ;  if  ever  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  your  acquaintance,' '  was  the 
reply,  as  the  offered  hand  was  taken,  and  the 
doctor  gazed  doubtfully  into  the  bronzed  and 
bearded  face. 

"  Ah,  Charlie,  is  your  memory  so  short  ?" 
Rupert  asked  in  a  half -reproachful  tone,  hold- 


222  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

ing  fast  his  brother-in-law's  hand  and  looking 
him  steadily  in  the  eyes. 

"  Why  !"  gasped  the  doctor,  "  it  isn't,  it 
can't  be—" 

"  Yes,  it  can  be,  and  it  is,"  laughed 
Kupert,  though  his  voice  trembled  with  emo 
tion  ;  "  God  has  mercifully  spared  me  and 
brought  me  back  again  to  my  father's  house. 
Are  all  well  ?  Can  you  prepare  my  mother 
for  the  news  that  1  am  yet  alive  and  here  ?" 

"  In  a  moment — when  I  have  myself  so 
far  recovered  from  the  shock  as  to  be  fully 
able  to  control  my  voice,"  answered  the 
doctor  jocosely,  but  with  a  very  perceptible 
tremble  in  his  tones.  "  My  dear  fellow,  if  I 
am  so  overcome  with  happiness,  what  will  she 
be?" 

"Joy  seldom  kills?"  Rupert  said  inter 
rogatively. 

"  Rarely  ;  and  yet  it  has  been  fatal  in  some 
instances.  We  must  move  with  caution." 

He  stepped  into  the  hall,  opened  the  par 
lor  door,  and  called  softly  to  his  wife. 

She  came  to  him  at  once.  "  What  is  it  ? 
has  baby  wakened  ?" 

He  gently  drew  the  door  to  behind  her 
before  he  answered.  Then  taking  her  in  hie 
arms,  "  Milly,  love,"  he  said  tenderly,  and 


MILDRED  AT  SOME.  22$ 

she  noticed  that  his  voice  was  unsteady,  "  can 
yon  bear  very  great  joy  ?" 

She  gave  him  a  startled  look.  "  What  i» 
it  ?  O  Rupert  ?  No,  no,  that  cannot  be  !" 

"  Yes,  dearest,  news  has  come  that  his — 
that  the  report  of  his  death  was  false — " 

"  Is  he  here  ?"  she  gasped.  "  O  Charlie, 
don't  keep  me  in  suspense  !  take  me  to 
him." 

"  I  did  not  say  he  was  here,  love  ;  only 
that  he  was  still  alive  at  last  reports." 

But  through  the  half -open  door  of  the 
sitting-room  she  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  tall 
form  that  wore  a  strangely  familiar  look,  and 
breaking  from  her  husband's  arms  she  ran  to 
see  who  it  was  ;  ran  into  the  arms  of  her  long, 
lost  and  deeply  mourned  brother,  outstretched 
to  receive  her. 

He  held  her  close,  she  weeping  hysteri 
cally  on  his  breast.  "  Dear,  dear  brother  \ 
where,  where  have  you  been  so  long,  so  very 
long  !  while  we  wept  and  mourned  for  you  a& 
dead?" 

"A  captive  among  the  Indians,"  he  an 
swered.  "  Tell  me,  has  there  been  any  break 
in  the  dear  circle  since  I  went  away  ?" 

"No,  we  are  all  here." 

"  Thank  God  for  that  !"     he  said  with. 


"224  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

reverent  gratitude.  "  And  now  I  must  see 
my  mother  ;  I  can  wait  no  longer." 

"  Just  one  moment :  I  will  send  father 
out  and  break  the  good  news  to  her  as  gently 
and  cautiously  as  I  can,"  Mildred  said,  and 
glided  away  through  the  hall  and  into  the  par 
lor,  her  eyes  full  of  glad  tears,  her  face  ra 
diant  with  joy. 

"  Some  one  in  the  sitting-room  wishes  to 
see  you,  father,"  she  whispered  to  him  ;  then 
turning  to  the  others,  as  he  rose  and  went  out, 
she  was  opening  her  lips  to  speak  when  Annis 
exclaimed,  "Why,  Milly,  you  look  as  if  you 
had  found  a  gold  mine  !" 

"  Better  than  that,"  cried  Mildred,  drop 
ping  on  her  knees  by  her  mother's  side  and 
putting  her  arms  about  her.  "  Mother,  dear, 
can  you  bear  the  best  of  good  tidings  ?' ' 

"  "What  is  it,  child  ?  tell  me  at  once  ;  noth 
ing  is  so  hard  to  bear  as  suspense,"  said  Mrs. 
Keith,  turning  pale.  "  Has  Ada  come 
home  ?  Don't  keep  me  from  her  a  moment," 
and  she  rose  hastily,  as  if  to  hurry  from  the 
room. 

"  No,  mother,  not  that ;  but  still  better 
and  stranger  news,"  Mildred  said,  gently 
forcing  her  back  into  her  seat ;  "  a  gentleman 
just  returned  from  the  far  "West  brings  the 


MILDRED   AT  HOME.  225 

news  that  our  Rupert  was  only  taken  prisoner 
by  the  Indians,  not  killed." 

Mrs.  Keith  seemed  about  to  faint ;  a  sud 
den,  death-like  pallor  overspread  her  face,  and 
Don  threw  his  arm  round  her. 

"Mother,  dear,  it  is  good  news;  what 
could  be  better  ?"  he  said,  his  voice  quivering 
with  excitement  and  joy. 

"Yes,"  she  responded,  her  coior  coming 
back  ;  "  oh,  can  it  be  possible  that  my  son  yet 
lives  ?  '  Oh  that  men  would  praise  the  Lord 
for  his  goodness  and  for  his  wonderful  works 
to  the  children  of  men  !  '  " 

Then  starting  to  her  feet,  "  Is  the  gentle 
man  here  ?  I  must  see  him,  speak  to  him,  hear 
all  he  can  tell  me  of  my  dear  boy." 

"  Oh,  wait  just  a  moment,  mother,  dear," 
Mildred  said,  springing  up  and  laying  a 
detaining  hand  on  her  mother's  arm  ;  "  father 
has  gone  out  to  speak  to  him.  Ah,  here  he 
is,"  as  Mr.  Keith  re-entered  the  room,  his  face 
shining  with  joy,  every  feature  quivering  with 
emotion. 

He  stepped  hurriedly  toward  the  little 
group.  "  Wife  !  wife  !"  he  cried,  catching 
her  in  his  arms,  "  our  boy,  our  dear  Rupert ; 
we  have  not  lost  him  yet  ;  he  is  restored  to 
us  as  from  the  grave  ;  he  lives  !  he  lives  I 


226  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

thank  God  for  his  unmerited  goodness  and 
mercy  !" 

Rupert  had  followed  his  father,  and  stand 
ing  at  the  half -open  parlor  door,  thence  catch 
ing  a  glimpse  of  his  mother's  loved  face,  he 
«ould  restrain  himself  no  longer. 

In  another  moment  he  had  her  in  his  arms, 
holding  her  close  and  covering  her  face  with 
kisses. 

She  did  not  faint,  but  lay  on  his  breast 
weeping  for  joy  as  if  she  would  weep  her  very 
life  away,  the  rest  looking  on  and  weeping 
with  her. 

At  last  she  lifted  her  head  for  a  long, 
•searching  gaze  into  his  face  ;  the  dear  face  she 
had  not  thought  ever  to  see  again  on  earth. 
"You  are  changed,"  she  said,  the  tears 
streaming  down  her  cheeks ;  "  you  have 
grown  older,  darker — there  are  lines  of  care 
and  suffering  my  heart  aches  to  see — but  it  is 
my  own  boy  still ;  and  your  mother's  eyes 
would  have  recognized  you  anywhere. ' ' 

"  And  you,  dearest  mother,  have  grown  so 
thin  and  pale,  your  hair  so  white, ' '  he  said, 
with  emotion. 

"  Never  mind,  my  son  ;  I  shall  grow 
young  again  now,"  she  answered  with  a  touch 
of  her  old  time  gayety  ;  then  gently  with- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  227 

drawing  herself  from  his  arms,  looked  on  with 
eyes  full  of  glad  tears  while  brothers  and  sis 
ters,  each  in  turn,  embraced  and  rejoiced  over 
the  lost  and  found  again. 

Perhaps  the  most  affecting  part  of  the 
scene  was  the  meeting  of  the  two  brothers,  each 
of  whom  had  long  believed  the  other  slain. 

But  it  was  a  moving  spectacle  throughout;. 
Celestia  Ann,  peering  in  at  the  door,  cried 
heartily  from  very  sympathy,  and  Flora  Wes- 
ton,  feeling  like  an  intruder  upon  the  sacred 
privacy  of  the  family,  stole  quietly  away  to 
Dr.  Landreth's,  leaving  word  with  Celestia 
Ann  that  she  had  gone  "  thinking  it  time  for 
an  invalid  to  be  in  bed." 

But  it  was  long  before  her  absence  was 
noticed. 

Rupert  did  not  attempt  to  tell  his  story 
that  night  ;  it  was  much  too  long,  he  said;  to 
morrow  he  would  gather  them  all  about  him,, 
if  they  liked,  and  go  into  the  details.  In  the 
mean  while  there  is  something  which  he  must 
say  at  once. 

"  I  shall  greatly  surprise  you  all,  I  know," 
he  said,  with  a  happy  smile.  "  Mother,  dear," 
turning  to  her,  do  not  be  shocked  when  I 
tell  you  that  I  have  brought  a  wife  with  me."~ 

He  read    a  look   of  astonishment,   not  un- 


228  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

mixed  with  dismay,  on  every  face  ;  but  they 
waited  in  silence  to  hear  what  more  he  had  to 


"She  is  a  Mexican,"  he  went  on,  "  of 
Spanish  descent,  and  very  beautiful,  1  think  ; 
but,  better  still,  she  is  a  Protestant  and  a  real 
Christian,  so  far  as  man  may  judge.  We 
were  fellow-captives,  and  I  doubtless  owe  my 
life  to  her  kind  and  skilful  nursing. " 

"  Then  we  will  all  welcome  her  !"  ex 
claimed  both  his  parents  in  a  breath. 
"  Where  is  she  now  ?" 

' '  At  the  hotel ;  she  feared  to  come  upon 
you  without  previous  announcement ;  in  fact, 
she  is  very  much  afraid  of  being  unwelcome 
as  it  is,"  Rupert  answered,  with  a  wistful 
glance  from  one  to  another  of  the  loved  faces 
about  him. 

"  Tell  her  she  needn't,"  cried  Mildred, 
with  impulsive  warmth.  "  Say  that  we  owe 
her  a  debt  of  gratitude  it  will  be  impossible 
ever  to  pay,  if  she  is  a  good  and  loving  wife 
to  the  dear  brother  whose  life  she  has  saved." 

"  Yes,  tell  her  that,"  said  his  mother. 
11  Go  and  bring  her  to  us.  She  shall  have  a 
daughter's  welcome  from  me." 

"May  I  go  with  you?"  Don  asked,  as 
Rupert  rose  to  go. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  229 

"  And  1  ?"  added  the  father,  rising  also. 
"  We  will  assure  her  of  her  welcome  before 
she  has  to  face  us  all  here." 

"  I  feel  inclined  to  go  myself,"  said  the 
mother,  smiling  affectionately  upon  Rupert ; 
"  but  no,  on  second  thoughts  I  should  rather 
have  our  first  interview  here,  with  no  prying 
eyes  to  look  on." 

"Yes,"  he  said;  "that  will  be  best; 
but,"  and  he  glanced  a  little  wistfully  at  hi& 
sisters. 

All  three  at  once  offered  to  accompany 
him. 

"Thank  you,  you  dear  girls,"  he  said 
heartily,  "  but  some  of  you  should  stay  with 
mother. ' ' 

After  a  little  discussion  it  was  agreed  that 
Zillah  should  go,  the  others  to  await  the  com 
ing  of  the  new  sister  where  they  were. 

The  hotel  was  at  no  great  distance,  and  they 
had  not  long  to  wait.  The  little  party  pres 
ently  returned,  and  Rupert  led  proudly  up  to 
his  mother  one  of  the  most  beautiful,  graceful, 
and  altogether  bewitching  young  creatures  she 
had  ever  seen. 

' '  Mother,  this  is  your  new  daughter ; 
Juanita,  our  mother,"  he  said,  and  they 
embraced  with  warmth  of  affection. 


330  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

1  ( I  love  you  now  for  my  dear  son' s  sake  ; 
and  all  that  he  tells  me  you  have  done  for 
him,  and  I  hope  very  soon  to  love  you  for 
your  own,"  Mrs.  Keith  said.  "  I,  too,  the 
;same  for  my  Rupert's  sake,"  the  girl-wife 
answered  in  liquid  tones,  and  pure  English, 
•only  a  slight  and  pretty  accent  betraying  the 
fact  that  it  was  not  her  native  tongue.  "  I 
hope  you  will  be  my  dearest  mamma,  if  so  be 
that  you  can  love  a  foreigner. ' ' 

"  We  will  not  call  or  consider  you  that, 
dear  child,"  responded  Mrs.  Keith  with  feel 
ing,  and  bestowing  another  kiss  upon  the  rich 
red  lips  ;  "  Rupert  tells  me  you  are  a  Chris 
tian,  and  '  we  are  all  one  in  Christ  Jesus  ; ' 
no  more  strangers  and  foreigners,  but  fellow- 
citizens  with  the  saints  and  of  the  household 
of  God  .  .  .  Jesus  Christ  himself  being  the 
chief  corner-stone." 

"  Oh,  thanks,  then  we  will  love  one 
another  very  much,"  said  the  young  bride, 
tears  of  joy  shining  in  her  beautiful  dark  eyes. 
"  Now  I  feel  that  I  shall  be  very  happy  in  my 
husband's  dear  home  that  he  has  told  me  of 
BO  many,  many  times. ' ' 

"  I  hope  you  will,"  Mildred  said,  embrac 
ing  her  affectionately  in  her  turn  ;  "I,  trust 
we  shall  become  dear  sisters  to  each  other. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  231 

We   all   want  you   to   feel   at   home  among 
us." 

Annis  came  next.  "  I  am  jour  youngest 
sister,"  she  said,  bestowing  and  receiving  a 
kiss  ;  "  at  least  the  youngest  here." 

"  I  have  none  other,"  returned  the  bride 
in  slightly  saddened  tones.  "  My  husband," 
and  she  turned  a  look  of  ineffable  affection 
upon  Rupert,  "  is  all  I  have  ;  father,  mother, 
brother,  sister  I  have  none." 

"  Ah,  we  must  indeed  be  kind  to  you,  poor 
lonely  dear  !"  said  Mrs.  Keith. 

But  it  was  growing  late,  and  the  travellers 
were  weary  with  the  long  journey. 

Mr.  Keith  read  a  short  psalm  of  praise, 
every  heart  echoing  the  words  ;  they  sung  the 
doxology,  "  Praise  God  from  whom  all  bless 
ings  flow,"  a  short  prayer  of  fervent  thanks 
giving  followed,  and  they  separated  for  the 
night,  Annis  full  of  delight  at  the  thought  of 
how  deeply  interested  Elsie  would  be  in  the 
story  she  meant  to  write  her  of  the  strange, 
the  wonderful  events  of  this  day. 

For  very  joy  the  parents  could  not  sleep  ; 
they  lay  awake  a  long  while  talking  of  their 
sons  and  the  new  daughter. 

"She  looks  very  young,"  Mr.  Keith  re 
marked. 


232  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  About  eighteen,  I  should  think,"  said  his 
wife.  "  Poor  lonely  dear  !  we  must  be  very 
kind  to  her,  especially  for  what  she  did  for 
Kupert." 

"  Yes,  as  kind  as  we  know  how  to  be," 
assented  Mr.  Keith.  "  1  cannot  yet  quite 
overcome  a  feeling  of  repugnance  at  the 
thought  of  a  foreigner  as  a  daughter-in-law  ;. 
but  I  trust  I  shall  be  able  to  in  time  ;  and  in 
the  mean  while  I  certainly  intend  to  treat  her 
as  well  as  if  I  were  delighted  with  the  match.' y 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,"  remarked  his 
wife ;  "  what  lovely,  expressive  eyes  she 
has!" 

"  Very,  and  they  gaze  at  Rupert  as  if  he 
were  a  sort  of  demigod  in  her  opinion," 
laughed  the  father.  A  happy,  gleeful  laugh 
it  was. 

"  Our  boy's  return  is  making  you  young 
again,  Stuart,"  said  his  wife. 

"  Both  of  us,  I  hope,  my  dear,"  he  re 
sponded.  ' '  But  now  we  must  try  to  sleep,  or 
I  fear  we  shall  feel  old  in  the  morning." 

The  whole  family  were  disposed  to  think 
well  of  the  new  member  and  make  her  quite 
one  of  themselves,  especially  for  Rupert'& 
sake.  Don  expressed  himself  as  delighted 
with  her  looks  and  manners,  and  ' '  How  beau- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  233 

tiful  she  is  !"  "  Yes,  perfectly  lovely,"  were 
the  sentences  exchanged  between  Mildred  and 
Zillah  as  they  left  their  father's  door  that 
night  to  go  to  their  own  homes  ;  and  Flora 
received  quite  an  enthusiastic  description  of 
her  charms  from  the  doctor  when  they  met  at 
the  breakfast-table  the  next  morning. 

"  Did  you  see  our  new  sister  last  night, 
Celestia  Ann  ?"  asked  Annis,  busy  adorning 
the  breakfast-table  in  her  home  with  flowers. 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  I  did,  Annis.  Wasn't  I  in 
to  the  readin',  prayin',  and  singin'  ?  Yes,  I 
see  her,  and  I  think  she's  about  the  purtiest 
creeter  that  I  ever  sot  eyes  on.  1  on'y  hope 
she'll  turn  out  as  good  as  she's  purty.  I 
wish't  she  wasn't  a  furriner,  though  ;  for 
somehow  I  can't  seem  to  like  'em  quite  so 
well  as  our  own  folks." 


"  Calamity  is  man's  true  touchstone." 

IN  their  retreat  after  the  attack  upon  the 
emigrant  train  to  which  Rupert  and  Don  be 
longed,  the  Indians  passed  again  over  the- 
ground  where  they  had  shot  down  the  latter. 

He  still  lay  motionless  and  insensible,  just 
as  he  had  fallen  from  his  horse.  Several  of 
the  savages  dismounted  and  stooped  over  him, 
one  drawing  a  scalping- knife  from  his  belt, 
and  with  the  other  hand  seizing  Rupert  by  the- 
hair. 

At  that  instant  consciousness  returned. 
Rupert  opened  his  eyes,  and  seeing  the  gleam 
ing  knife  lifted  high  in  the  air,  sent  up  a 
swift  but  silent  cry  to  God  for  help. 

The  Indian's  hold  upon  his  hair  suddenly 
relaxed,  and  the  knife  was  returned  to  his  belt. 
He  had  changed  his  mind,  as  he  gave  his 
companions  to  understand  in  a  few  words 
quite  unintelligible  to  Rupert,  who  was  indeed 
again  fast  losing  consciousness  ;  an  answering; 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  235 

sentence  or  two  came  indistinctly  to  his  ear  as 
sounds  from  the  far  distance  ;  then  he  knew 
nothing  more  for  a  time,  how  long  he  could 
not  tell  ;  but  on  recovering  consciousness  he 
found  himself  strapped  to  the  back  of  an 
Indian  pony  which  was  slowly  toiling  up  a 
steep  ascent  ;  a  narrow  path  winding  round  a 
mountain  ;  on  the  right  a  rocky  wall,  on  the 
other  a  sheer  descent  of  many  hundred  feet. 

Rupert  turned  dizzy,  sick,  and  faint  as  he 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  frightful  precipice, 
the  foaming  stream  and  jagged  rocks  at  its 
base  ;  and  but  for  the  thongs  that  bound  him 
firmly  to  the  back  of  his  steed,  he  must  in 
evitably  have  fallen  and  been  dashed  to  pieces 
upon  them. 

He  could  not  in  that  first  moment  remem 
ber  what  had  befallen  him,  and  called  in  a 
faint  voice  upon  his  brother,  "  Don,  where 
are  we  ?" 

No  reply,  and  he  called  again,  more  faintly 
than  before,  for  he  was  very  weak  from  pain 
and  loss  of  blood,  "  Don,  Don  !" 

An  Indian's  "  Ugh  !"  and  a  few  words  in 
an  unknown  tongue  answered  him  from  the 
rear. 

The  sounds  were  guttural  and  harsh,  and 
seemed  to  him  to  command  silence. 


236  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Instantly  he  comprehended  that  he  was  a 
prisoner  and  in  whose  hands  ;  sorely  wounded 
too,  for  every  movement  of  his  pony  gave 
him  exquisite  pain  ;  and  now  memory  recalled 
the  events  of  the  afternoon — the  chase,  the 
stinging  shot,  the  fall  from  his  horse,  then 
the  waking  as  from  a  dream,  to  feel  the  grasp 
upon  his  hair  and  see  the  scalping- knife  held 
aloft  in  the  air  and  just  ready  to  descend  upon 
his  devoted  head. 

Question  upon  question  crowded  upon  his 
mind.  "  Where  were  his  late  companions, 
Morton  and  Smith  ?  were  they  killed  ?  were 
they  prisoners  like  himself  ?  or  had  they 
escaped  ?  Had  the  train  been  attacked  ;  and 
if  so,  what  was  the  result  ?  Oh,  above  all, 
where  was  Don,  the  younger  brother,  over 
whom  he  was  to  have  watched  with  paternal 
care?  He  would  have  defended  Don's  life 
and  liberty  with  his  own  ;  but,  alas,  the  op 
portunity  was  denied  him. 

He  thought  of  his  own  probable  fate  : 
what  was  there  to  expect  but  torture  and 
death  ?  He  remembered  to  have  read  that  the 
Indians  sometimes  carried  a  prisoner  a  long 
distance  that  the  rest  of  their  tribe  might 
share  the  delight  of  witnessing  his  dying  tor 
ments.  Rupert  shuddered  at  the  thought  that 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  237 

this  was  the  fate  reserved  for  him,  and  feeling 
very  weak,  half  hoped  he  might  die  on  the 
way  to  meet  it. 

Silently  he  lifted  up  his  heart  in  prayer  to 
God  for  help  and  succor  in  this  his  sore  ex 
tremity,  and  that  the  consolations  of  God 
might  not  be  small  to  the  dear  ones  at  home 
— especially  the  tender  mother — when  the 
news  of  his  sad  fate  should  reach  them. 

The  last  gleams  of  the  setting  sun  lighted 
up  the  lofty  pathway  they  were  pursuing, 
but  down  in  that  deep  valley  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  it  was  already  growing  dark  ;  he 
could  see  into  its  depths  as  he  lay  with  his 
cheek  resting  on  the  neck  of  the  pony  ;  turn 
ing  his  head,  the  wall  of  rock  towering  on  the 
other  side  came  into  view. 

He  was  bound  hand  and  foot  and  could  lift 
only  his  head  ;  he  seemed  to  have  hardly 
strength  for  that ;  but,  anxious  to  learn  the 
number  of  his  captors  and  whether  he  were 
the  only  prisoner,  he  made  an  effort,  feebly 
lifted  it,  and  glanced  before  and  behind  him. 

He  could  only  see  that  there  were  several 
mounted  Indians  ahead,  and  one  or  more  in 
his  rear,  all  hideous  in  war-paint  and  feathers  ; 
there  might  be  many  more  at  each  end  of  the 
line — for  they  were  travelling  single  file,  along 


238  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

the  narrow,  winding  path,  but  a  small  portion 
of  which  came  within  the  line  of  his  vision. 
And  there  might  be  other  prisoners,  though 
he  saw  none. 

Even  that  slight  exertion  had  exhausted 
him  ;  his  head  dropped,  and  again  pain  of  body 
and  distress  of  mind  were  forgotten  in  a  long 
and  death-like  swoon. 

It  was  night,  lighted  only  by  the  stars,  and 
the  path  winding  downward,  when  again  he 
revived  for  a  few  moments  shivering  and  be 
numbed  with  cold,  weak  and  faint  with  hun 
ger  and  loss  of  blood,  and  suffering  greatly 
from  the  pain  of  his  wounds. 

He  heard  no  sound  but  the  rush  of  a 
mountain  torrent  and  the  clatter  of  the  horses' 
hoofs  over  the  stony  way  ;  he  had  scarcely 
more  than  noted  these  things  when  again  his 
senses  forsook  him. 

When  next  he  revived,  two  of  his  captors 
were  busy  in  undoing  the  rope  that  made  him 
fast  to  the  pony,  which  was  standing  stock 
still  on  level  ground  only  a  few  feet  from  a 
fire  of  brushwood,  that  sent  up  flame  and 
smoke  and  blazed  and  crackled  with  a  cheery 
sound  which  spoke  of  warmth  for  benumbed 
limbs,  while  some  venison  and  trout  broiling  on 
the  coals  gave  out  a  savory  smell. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  23$ 

Several  warriors  were  grouped  about  the 
fire,  one  giving  particular  attention  to  the 
cooking,  the  others  lounging  in  picturesque 
and  restful  attitudes  on  the  grass. 

Rupert  was  quickly  lifted  from  the  pony 
and  laid  on  the  grass  beside  them,  with  his- 
feet  to  the  fire.  Then  the  cord  was  taken 
from  his  wrists  and  a  bit  of  the  smoking  veni 
son  put  into  his  hand.  He  devoured  it  raven 
ously,  and,  his  hunger  appeased,  presently  fell 
into  a  deep  sleep  ;  having  first  committed 
himself  and  dear  ones  to  the  care  and  protec 
tion  of  that  God  who  is  everywhere  present 
and  almighty  to  defend  and  save. 

His  wounds  had  been  rudely  bound  up  in 
a  way  to  stanch  the  flow  of  blood,  it  being 
the  desire  of  his  captors  to  keep  him  alive,  at 
least  for  a  time.  More  mercifully  disposed 
than  they  oftentimes  are,  and  knowing  that 
he  was  too  weak  for  flight,  they  left  him  un 
bound  through  the  night,  merely  fastening  a 
cord  round  each  arm  and  securing  the  other 
end  to  the  arm  of  a  stout  warrior,  one  of 
whom  lay  on  each  side  of  the  prisoner. 

Rupert  had  noted  as  they  laid  him  down 
that  no  other  white  man  was  in  sight  ;  this 
gave  him  hope  that  the  rest  had  escaped  ;  ye$ 
he  could  not  know  that  it  was  not  by  death, 


240  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

so  that  the  discovery  brought  small  relief  to 
his  anxiety  of  mind  on  their  account. 

Morning  found  him  feverish  and  ill,  his 
wounds  very  painful  ;  but  at  an  early  hour 
the  Indians  resumed  their  line  of  march  with 
him  in  the  midst,  strapped  to  the  pony  as  be 
fore. 

It  was  a  terrible  journey,  climbing  steep 
ascents,  creeping  along  narrow  ledges  of 
rock,  where  a  single  false  step  would  have 
sent  them  down  hundreds  of  feet,  to  be  dashed 
in  pieces  upon  the  sharp  points  of  the  rocks 
below  ;  now  descending  by  paths  as  steep,  nar 
row,  and  dangerous  as  those  by  which  they 
had  ascended,  and  anon  fording  streams  so 
deep  and  swift  that  the  helpless,  hapless  pris 
oner  was  in  imminent  danger  of  drowning. 

He,  poor  fellow,  was  too  ill  to  note  the 
direction  in  which  they  were  travelling, 
though  he  had  a  vague  idea  that  it  was  in  the 
main  south-westerly. 

Beside  the  difficulties  and  dangers  of  the 
way,  he  suffered  intensely  from  the  pain  of 
his  wounds,  and  often  from  intolerable  thirst. 

One  day  he  woke  as  from  a  troubled  sleep 
to  find  himself  lying  on  a  bearskin  in  an 
Indian  wigwam,  a  young  girl  sitting  beside 
him  embroidering  a  moccasin. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  241 

Their  eyes  met,  and  hers,  large,  soft,  and 
dark  as  those  of  a  gazelle,  lighted  up  with 
pleased  surprise. 

"  You  are  better,  senor,"  she  said,  in  low 
musical  tones,  and  in  the  Spanish  tongue. 

Rupert  understood  her  ;  he  was  fond  of 
languages,  and  had  gained  a  good  knowledge 
of  Spanish  from  Dr.  Landreth,  who  had 
learned  to  speak  it  fluently  during  his  long 
sojourn  in  South  America. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  faintly  in  that  tongue, 
"  and  you  have  been  my  kind  nurse  ?" 

"  It  has  been  happiness  to  care  for  the 
weak  and  wounded  stranger, ' '  she  said  in  her 
liquid  tones,  "  though  I  little  thought  he 
could  speak  to  me  in  my  own  language  ;  for 
you  are  not  my  countryman,  senor  ;  your  face 
is  too  fair. " 

"I  am  from  the  United  States,"  he  re 
plied.  "  And  you,  fair  lady  ?" 

"  1  am  a  Mexican,  a  captive  among  the 
Indians  like  yourself,"  was  the  mournful  re 
ply,  tears  gathering  in  the  beautiful  eyes. 

His  heart  was  touched  with  sympathy,  and 
he  was  opening  his  lips  to  express  it ;  but  with 
playful  authority  she  bade  him  be  quiet  and 
not  waste  his  feeble  strength  in  talk. 

Then  she  brought  him  food  and  drink  pre« 


MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

pared  by  her  own  fair  hands,  and  fed  him  too 
— for  he  had  scarce  strength  to  feed  himself — 
and  directly  his  hunger  was  satisfied  he  fell 
asleep  again. 

When  again  he  woke  it  was  night  ;  the 
stars  were  shining  in  the  sky,  as  he  could  see 
through  the  opening  in  the  top  of  the  wigwam 
left  for  the  escape  of  smoke,  and  by  their 
glimmer  he  could  faintly  perceive  the  outlines 
of  dusky  forms  lying  on  all  sides  of  him  ; 
their  quietude  and  the  sound  of  their  breath 
ing  telling  that  they  slept. 

The  impulse  came  strongly  upon  him  to 
rise  and  flee — captivity  was  so  dreadful, 
liberty  so  sweet — and  it  might  be  that,  though 
so  strangely  spared  up  to  this  time,  torture  and 
death  were  yet  to  be  his  portion  if  he  re 
mained. 

He  started  up,  but  only  to  fall  back  again 
in  utter  exhaustion.  He  could  do  nothing  to 
save  himself,  and  there  was  no  earthly  helper 
near  ;  but  sweetly  to  his  mind  came  the  open 
ing  verses  of  the  forty-sixth  psalm,  "God  is 
our  refuge  and  strength,  a  very  present  help 
in  trouble.  Therefore  will  we  not  fear, 
though  the  earth  be  removed,  and  though  the 
mountains  be  carried  into  the  midst  of  the 
sea,"  and  silently  committing  himself  and 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  245 

loved  ones — all,  alas,  so  far  distant — to  the  care 
of  that  almighty  Friend,  he  fell  asleep  again. 

He  was  quite  alone  when  next  he  woke,  and 
it  was  broad  daylight,  for  a  bright  sunbeam, 
had  found  its  way  through  the  opening  in  the 
roof,  and  laid  bare  to  his  view  the  whole  in 
terior  of  the  wigwam,  with  all  its  filth  and  lack 
of  the  comforts  of  civilized  life. 

All  was  silence  within,  but  from  without 
came  the  merry  shouts  and  laughter  of  the 
Indian  children  at  play.  Presently  one  pushed 
aside  the  curtain  of  skins  answering  for  a  doorr 
and  a  pair  of  wild  black  eyes  stared  Rupert  in, 
the  face  for  a  moment ;  then  the  curtain  fell, 
and  soft,  swift-retreating  footfalls  came  faintly 
to  his  ear. 

Not  many  minutes  had  passed  when  it  was 
again  drawn  aside,  and  Juanita,  the  Mexican 
girl  he  had  seen  the  day  before,  stepped 
within,  dropping  it  behind  her. 

Her  sweet  though  melancholy  smile  seem 
ed  to  light  up  the  forlorn  hut  as  she  bade  Ru 
pert  good-morning  in  her  liquid  tones,  using 
the  Spanish  tongue  as  before,  and  asked  if 
he  could  eat  the  morsel  she  had  brought. 
Alas,  not  such  a  breakfast  as  would  have  been, 
served  him  in  his  own  far-away  home. 

It  was  a  broiled  fish,  hot  from  the  coals, 


244  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

laid  upon  a  bit  of  bark  covered  with  green 
oak-leaves  in  lieu  of  a  napkin.  He  thanked 
her  gratefully,  and  asked  if  she  could  give  him 
some  water  with  which  to  wash  his  face  and 
hands  before  eating. 

Setting  his  breakfast  on  the  ground  beside 
him,  she  went  out,  and  presently  returned 
with  a  gourd  filled  with  cold,  clear  water  from 
a  little  stream  that  ran  sparkling  and  dancing 
down  the  mountain-side  but  a  few  yards  away. 

He  first  took  a  long  deep  draught,  for  he 
was  suffering  with  feverish  thirst,  then  laved 
face  and  hands,  she  handing  him  his  own 
pocket-handkerchief,  which  had  been  washed 
in  the  stream  and  dried  in  the  sun,  to  use  in 
place  of  a  towel. 

He  recognized  it ;  then  glancing  down  at 
his  person,  saw  that  he  was  attired  in  the 
clothes  he  had  on  when  taken,  and  that,  as 
they  were  free  from  blood-stains,  they  too 
must  have  been  washed  by  some  kindly  hand 
and  replaced  upon  him  after  their  cleansing. 

"  How  much  1  owe  you  !"  he  said,  looking 
gratefully  at  her. 

"  No,  not  much,"  she  answered,  with  shy 
modesty.  "  Now  eat,  seftor,  or  your  break 
fast  will  be  cold." 

"  I  must  first  rest  a  little,"  he  returned, 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  245- 

with  a  sigh  of  weariness,  as  he  fell  back  ex 
hausted  upon  his  rude  couch. 

She  caught  up  several  deer  and  bear  skins 
that  lay  scattered  about,  rolled  them  together 
and  placed  them  as  a  pillow  under  his  head  ; 
then  drawing  two  small  objects  from  beneath 
that  one  on  which  he  had  been  lying,  she  held 
them  up  to  his  gaze,  asking,  "  Do  you  value 
these,  senor  ?" 

"  Indeed  do  I,"  he  cried,  stretching  out  an 
eager  hand  ;  "  my  precious  little  Bible  and 
my  medicine  case  !  1  am  thankful  beyond 
expression  that  they  have  been  preserved  to 
me.  How  did  it  happen,  senora  ?' ' 

She  explained  that  she  had  seen  them  in 
the  possession  of  his  captor,  had  begged  that 
they  might  be  given  to  her,  and  the  Indian, 
thinking  them  of  little  worth,  had  readily 
complied  with  her  request. 

He  poured  out  renewed  thanks  as  he  took 
up  his  Bible  and  turned  over  the  leaves,  gazing 
upon  it  the  while  with  loving,  delighted  eyes. 

"  An  English  book,  is  it  not  ?"  she  asked, 
watching  him  with  mingled  surprise  and  curi 
osity. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  the  Book  of  books  ; 
God's  own  holy  Word.  You  have  read  it  in 
Spanish,  senora  ?' ' 


246  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"The  Bible?  We  are  not  allowed  to 
touch  it  ;  our  Church  forbids  ;  I  never  saw  one 
"before,"  and  she  gazed  upon  it  with  a  kind  of 
awed  curiosity  and  interest. 

"  A  Papist,"  he  thought,  pityingly ; 
"  peradventure  it  was  for  her  sake  I  was  sent 
here — that  I  may  lead  her  from  that  darkness 
into  the  true  light.  If  life  be  spared  me,  I 
will,  with  God's  help,  do  my  best. ' ' 

She  broke  in  upon  his  thoughts.  "  Come, 
•eenor,  eat,  your  fish  will  be  quite  cold." 

When  Juanita  left  him,  carrying  away 
with  her  the  remains  of  his  repast,  an  old 
•squaw  paid  him  a  short  visit,  looking  curiously 
at  him,  and  grunting  out  several  questions 
which  were  utterly  unintelligible  to  him  ;  he 
could  only  shake  his  head  and  feebly  sign  to 
her  that  he  did  not  understand. 

She  left  him,  and  he  took  up  his  book,  but 
found  the  light  was  not  sufficient  to  enable 
him  to  read,  for  it  wa&  a  very  small  edition 
which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  carry  in  his 
pocket. 

He  was  heartily  glad  when  Juanita  again 
appeared,  this  time  with  the  moccasin  she  was 
-embroidering  in  her  hand,  and  seated  herself 
at  his  side. 

"  I  am  stronger  to-day,  senora,"  he  said, 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  247 

*(  and  can  listen  and  talk  ;  tell  me  of  your 
self." 

To  that  she  answered  briefly  that  she  was 
an  orphan,  both  parents  having  died  while  she 
was  yet  a  mere  infant  ;  that  she  had  lived  in 
the  family  of  an  uncle,  where  she  was  made  to 
feel  her  poverty  and  dependence,  and  her  life 
rendered  far  from  happy  ;  that  some  months 
ago  the  Indians  had  made  a  raid  upon  her 
uncle's  ranch,  killed  him  and  all  his  family, 
and  carried  her  off  a  prisoner  to  this  mountain 
fastness  ;  that  she  had  been  adopted  by  one  of 
their  chiefs,  Thunder-Cloud,  and  had  no  hope 
of  any  better  fate  than  a  life  spent  among  the 
savages. 

"  Too  sad  a  fate  for  one  so  beautiful, 
senora,"  Rupert  said  ;  "  but  do  not  despair  ; 
God,  who  rescued  Daniel- from  the  lions'  den, 
and  Jonah  from  the  belly  of  the  whale,  can 
save  us  also  even  from  this  stronghold  of  our 
savage  foe. " 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  occurrences  you 
speak  of,"  she  said,  "  and  1  dare  not  venture 
to  address  any  petition  directly  to  the  great 
God  ;  but  I  pray  daily  to  the  Blessed  Virgin 
and  the  saints  to  have  pity  upon  a  poor  friend 
less  girl  and  restore  me  to  my  country  and 
my  people,  though,  alas  !  I  know  not  of  one 


248  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

in   whose   veins   flows  a  single  drop  of    my 
blood." 

"  Ah,  senora,"  replied  Rupert,  "  you  need 
not  fear  to  approach  the  great  God  in  the 
name  of  His  dear  Son,  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ.  He  bids  us  do  so,  and  tells  us 
that  He  is  the  hearer  and  answerer  of  prayers. " 

He  paused,  closed  his  eyes,  and  lifted  up 
his  heart  in  silent  supplication  for  her  and  for 
himself. 

She  thought  he  slept,  and  sat  very  quietly, 
busy  with  her  embroidery  and  waiting  for  him 
to  wake  again. 

At  length  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  asked 
her  if  she  knew  what  fate  the  Indians  had  re 
served  for  him. 

She  told  him  a  council  had  been  held  while 
he  lay  unconscious  from  his  wounds  ;  that 
there  was  a  heated  discussion,  some  of  the 
braves  being  set  upon  putting  him  to  a  tortur 
ing  death,  while  others  would  have  held  him 
for  ransom  ;  but  finally  Thunder-Cloud,  whose 
shot  had  brought  him  to  the  ground,  had 
claimed  him  as  his  peculiar  property,  and 
declared  his  intention  to  adopt  him  as  his  son. 
"So,"  she  concluded,  "you,  senor,  need 
have  no  fear  of  being  slain  by  any  of  the 
tribe,  unless  caught  in  an  attempt  to  escape.  '* 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  249 

"  God  be  praised  !"  he  ejaculated,  with 
•clasped  hands  and  uplifted  eyes,  "  for  life  is 
sweet  so  long  as  there  is  a  possibility  of  future 
restoration  to  home  and  loved  ones. ' ' 

"  You  will  attempt  to  escape  ?"  she  asked, 
with  a  look  of  apprehension  ;  "it  will  be 
very  dangerous,  sefior,  for  they  are  terribly 
fierce — these  Apaches." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  faint  smile.  "  I 
am  far  too  weak  to  think  of  it  now,  but  one 
day,  when  I  have  recovered  my  health  and 
strength,  I  may  find  an  opportunity." 

"  And  I  shall  be  left  alone  with  the 
savages  as  before,"  she  said,  with  atouchingly 
mournful  cadence  in  her  exquisite  voice. 

"  You  must  fly  also,  senora,"  he  answered. 
<c  I  think  it  is  to  you  I  owe  my  life,  for  have 
you  not  been  my  faithful  nurse  through  I  know 
not  how  long  a  sickness  ?  Then  how  could  I  be 
so  ungrateful  as  to  leave  you  here  in  captivity 
while  I  seek  home  and  freedom  for  myself  ?' ' 

"  You  have  home  and  kindred,  father  and 
mother  perhaps,  senor  ?' '  she  said  inquiringly, 
ihe  soft  eyes  she  fixed  upon  his  face  wistful 
and  dim  with  unshed  tears. 

"  Ah,"  he  answered  with  emotion,  "  the 
thought  of  their  anguish  when  they  shall  learn, 
my  fate  doubles  my  distress." 


250 


MILDRED  AT  HOME. 


"  Then,"  she  sighed,  "  better  to  be  alone 
in  the  world,  like  me,  with  none  to  care 
whether  you  live  or  die." 

"Nay,  sweet  lady,  there  is  one  who  cares 
very  much,  though  he  has  known  you  so  short 
a  time,"  he  said  with  a  grateful  look  ;  "  one 
who  would  feel  doubly  desolate  were  you  to 
leave  him  here  alone  with  his  captors. ' ' 


kteenilr, 


"Calamity  is  man's  true  touchstone." 

"You  have  talked  too  much,  senor," 
Juanita  said  with  concern,  noting  the  look  of 
utter  exhaustion  that  came  over  his  face  with 
the  last  words  ;  "I  am  but  a  poor  nurse  to 
have  allowed  it.  Your  lips  are  parched  too," 
she  added,  dropping  her  work  and  gliding 
from  the  tent  to  return  a  moment  later  with  a 
gourd  full  of  the  cold,  sparkling  water  of  the 
mountain  stream. 

She  raised  his  head  and  held  the  cup  to 
his  lips. 

He  drank  with  feverish  eagerness. 
As  he  lay  back  upon  his  couch  again 
Juanita  remarked  that  his  wounds  must  be 
painful  and  in  need  of  dressing,  adding  that 
Light-of-the-Morning,  Thunder-Cloud's  wife, 
who  had  great  knowledge  of  the  virtues  of 
many  plants  and  roots  growing  in  that  region, 
would  soon  come  in  and  dress  them  with  a 
certain  kind  of  leaf  that  was  famed  among  the 


252  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Indians   for  its    healing    qualities,  and    had 
already  worked  wonders  for  him. 

"  And  she  has  been  dressing  my  hurts  all 
these  days  ?"  asked  Rupert. 

"Yes." 

"  Ah,  how  long  have  1  lain  here,, 
eenora  ?" 

"  Three  weeks,  sefior,"  she  answered,  and 
at  that  moment  the  old  squaw  he  had  seen  be 
fore  came  in  bearing  a  bark  basket  filled  with 
the  healing  leaves. 

Juanita  withdrew  to  the  farther  side  of  the 
wigwam,  and  seated  herself  with  her  back 
toward  them  while  Li ght-of -the- Morning  did 
her  work. 

The  task  was  performed  a  trifle  roughly, 
but  with  dexterity  and  skill,  and  the  applica 
tions  proved  very  cooling  and  soothing  to 
Rupert's  wounds,  which  before  had  tortured 
him  with  a  sensation  of  dryness  and  burning 
beat. 

He  returned  warm  thanks,  Juanita  acting 
as  interpreter. 

The  squaw  nodded,  her  grim  features  re 
laxing  in  a  slight  smile,  as  of  pleasure,  that  her 
labors  were  appreciated ;  then  pointing  ta 
Rupert's  medicine  case,  lying  by  his  side, 
asked  what  it  was. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  253 

Juanita  repeated  the  query  in  Spanish,  and 
translated  Rupert's  answer  into  Apache,  which 
she  had  learned  to  speak  with  tolerable 
fluency. 

The  squaw  then  asked  for  some  medicine 
for  a  sick  child  in  the  camp,  whose  ailment 
baffled  her  skill. 

Rupert  was  a  good  druggist,  and  had 
sufficient  knowledge  of  medicine  to  prescribe 
for  the  child  when  he  had  heard  what  were 
the  symptoms  ;  also  the  proper  remedy  was  in 
his  case,  and  he  gave  it.  The  result  was  satis 
factory,  and  raised  him  in  the  esteem  of  the 
whole  village. 

Squaws,  pappooses,  a  few  lads  and  young 
girls,  and  a  sprinkling  of  old  men  were  all 
that  were  in  it  at  this  time,  the  braves  having 
gone  again  upon  the  war-path.  This  Rupert 
learned  from  Juanita. 

In  a  few  days  he  was  able  to  crawl  out  from 
the  wigwam  and  lie  on  a  bearskin,  which  she 
laid  for  him  underneath  a  spreading  tree.  He 
found  the  pure  mountain  air  very  delightful 
and  invigorating,  and  from  that  time  his  re 
covery  was  rapid. 

He  was  soon  able  to  sit  up  a  part  of  the  day 
and  amuse  himself  with  whittling  bits  of  soft 
wood,  making  whistles  for  the  little  Indian 


254  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"boys  and  a  variety  of  toys  for  the  girls — tiny 
chairs,  tables,  spoons,  knives  and  forks — which 
greatly  delighted  them. 

Thus  he  made  friends  of  the  children,  and 
also  of  their  mothers,  while  to  his  generous 
nature  it  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  be  able  to 
give  such  pleasure  even  to  these  rude  children 
of  the  desert. 

Also,  as  he  picked  up  their  language,  he 
tried  to  tell  them  the  old,  old  story  so  dear  to 
every  Christian  heart.  To  Juanita  he  was 
able  to  tell  it  at  once,  and  often  as  she  sat  by 
his  side  during  his  convalescence,  he  read  to 
her  passages  from  his  Bible,  stopping  now  and 
then  to  give  an  explanation  or  answer  a  ques 
tion  ;  for  she  listened  with  interest  and  a 
desire  to  fully  comprehend. 

That  his  Bible  had  been  spared  to  him  was 
a  source  of  deep  joy  and  thankfulness,  such 
comfort  did  he  find  in  its  many  great  and 
precious  promises. 

His  heart  was  often  oppressed  with  sadness 
as  he  thought  of  Don,  and  longed  to  know  his 
fate,  or  of  the  dear  ones  at  home  and  the  dis 
tress  they  would  undoubtedly  feel  on  account 
of  his  disappearance.  He  supposed  the  report 
would  be  that  he  had  been  killed  by  the 
Indians,  and  pictured  to  himself  his  mother's 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  255 

anguish  on  hearing  the  terrible  tidings  ;  his 
father's  also,  for  he  knew  that  to  both  their 
children  were  very  near  and  dear. 

When  overwhelmed  by  these  sorrowful  re 
flections,  his  only  comfort  was  in  prayer  to  Him 
who  is  mighty  to  save,  and  who,  he  doubted 
not,  was  able  both  to  give  consolation  to  his 
loved  ones  and  to  deliver  him  from  the  hands 
of  his  foes. 

His  situation  was  not  an  enviable  one  at 
the  first,  but  it  became  less  so  upon  the  return 
of  the  braves,  most  of  whom  regarded  him 
with  scowls  and  looks  of  hate. 

He  gave  them  back  pleasant  looks,  was  on 
the  watch  to  do  them  any  little  service  in  his 
power,  but  avoided  them  when  he  could  with 
out  offence.  As  time  went  on  he  found  op 
portunities  to  win  their  good-will. 

From  a  boy  he  had  made  a  practice  of 
learning  all  that  he  could  on  every  subject,  and 
about  every  kind  of  work  that  came  in  his 
way  ;  and  now  he  found  use  for  some  kinds  of 
knowledge  that  most  lads  would  think  it  be 
neath  them  to  acquire  ;  and  he  was  not  only  an 
expert  whittler,  but  equally  accomplished  as  a 
cook,  and  he  taught  the  squaws  to  make  sa 
vory  dishes  that  the  braves,  their  husbands  and 
eons,  loved,  thus  winning  favor  for  himself. 


356  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Yet  it  seemed  not  altogether  good  policy  ; 
for  finding  him  so  useful  they  were  the  more 
determined  never  to  part  with  him  ;  and  while 
treating  him  well  in  other  respects,  kept  him 
a  close  prisoner  in  that  little  mountain  fast 
ness,  watching  with  vigilance  his  every  move 
ment,  and  never  suffering  him  to  go  out  of 
sight  of  the  village. 

Still,  Rupert  never  for  a  moment  faltered 
in  his  determination  to  effect  his  escape  ;  but 
while  constantly  on  the  alert  for  an  oppor 
tunity,  was  extremely  careful  to  do  nothing 
to  excite  suspicion  that  such  was  his  pur 
pose. 

It  was,  however,  no  secret  from  Juanita, 
who  was  to  share  the  attempt  whenever  made  ; 
and  frequently  when  alone,  plans  for  flight, 
the  direction  it  should  take,  and  what  provision 
could  be  made  for  it,  formed  the  principal 
theme  of  their  conversation. 

Neither  knew  exactly  where  they  were, 
but  Rupert  had  an  idea  that  their  nearest 
route  toward  civilization  would  lie  in  a  south 
easterly  direction  and  take  them  into  Texas. 

He  had  no  means  of  determining  the  mat 
ter,  nor  could  he  for  a  long  time  do  anything 
more  than  think  and  plan. 

In  the  mean  while  he  tried  to  be  useful  in 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  257 

every  possible  way  to  those  about  him,  more 
especially  Juanita. 

He  taught  her  to  speak  and  read  English, 
using  his  Bible  as  his  text-book  ;  it  was  the 
only  one  at  hand,  but  it  proved  sufficient. 
He  found  her  deplorably  ignorant  of  almost 
everything  but  embroidery  and  music — for 
which  she  possessed  remarkable  talent — but 
managed,  in  the  course  of  the  three  years  they 
spent  in  the  wilds  together,  to  give  her  a  great 
amount  of  general  information — teaching  her 
many  things  orally — drawing  maps  in  the  sand 
for  her  instruction  in  geography  and  history, 
using  the  heavens  at  night  to  assist  in  giving 
her  a  knowledge  of  astronomy,  the  plants  and 
flowers  to  which  they  had  access  to  teach  her 
the  rudiments  of  botany. 

Juanita  proved  an  apt  pupil,  bright  and 
interesting,  readily  catching  an  idea  and  retain 
ing  it  in  her  memory  ;  all  the  more  easily, 
doubtless,  that  she  dearly  loved  her  teacher. 

She  was  very  young,  had  seen  nothing  of 
the  world,  and  in  her  artless  simplicity  made 
her  affection  quite  apparent  to  its  object  ;  but 
he  had  no  difficulty  in  returning  it,  and  be 
fore  they  had  been  six  months  together  they 
had  come  to  a  full  understanding,  and  were 
plighted  lovers. 


258  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

Then  Rupert  drew  bright  pictures  of  his 
home — the  home  to  which  he  hoped  one  day 
to  take  her — and  of  his  father  and  mother, 
brothers  and  sisters,  all  of  whom  he  said 
would  welcome  and  love  her  as  one  of  them 
selves. 

But  one  year  and  then  another  rolled 
slowly  away,  while  deliverance  seemed  no 
nearer  than  at  first,  and  oftentimes  their  hearts 
were  sick  with  hope  deferred. 

It  was  harder  for  Rupert  than  for  Juanita  ; 
for  he  whom  she  had  with  her  was  all  she  had 
to  love,  while  he,  though  fondly  attached  to 
the  lovely  girl  sharing  his  captivity,  was  sepa 
rated  from  many  who  were  also  very  dear  to 
his  heart,  and  who  must,  he  knew,  be  suffer 
ing  much  distress  of  mind  on  his  account. 

Then,  too,  the  enforced  inactivity  in  busi 
ness  matters  was  very  trying  to  him,  while  she 
knew  nothing  of  it. 

He  was  her  world,  and  she  had  him  there  ; 
yet  she  did  not  enjoy  savage  life  ;  longed  to 
return  to  civilization  for  her  own  sake,  and 
Still  more  for  his. 

Besides,  they  were  at  times  in  great  danger 
when  the  Indians  were  excited  by  drink  or 
preparations  to  go  upon  the  war-path,  or  upon 
the  return  of  the  braves  from  such  an  expedi- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  259 

tion,  either  exultant  from  victory  or  depressed 
and  angered  by  defeat. 

At  length,  in  the  third  year  of  Rupert's 
captivity,  the  vigilance  of  the  Indians  began  to 
relax  somewhat ;  they  thought  their  prisoners 
had  become  enamored  of  their  wild  life,  and 
would  hardly  care  to  risk  an  attempt  to 
escape,  knowing,  as  they  undoubtedly  did, 
that  if  recaptured  torture  and  death  would  be 
almost  sure  to  follow  ;  so  Rupert  and  Juanita 
would  occasionally  find  themselves  free  to 
ramble  through  the  extent  of  the  valley,  and 
even  to  climb  some  of  the  nearer  hills  and 
mountains. 

Hope  now  revived  in  their  breasts,  and  was 
quickened  erelong  by  a  fortunate  discovery  : 
they  one  day  came  upon  some  small  nuggets 
of  gold,  which  they  carefully  secreted  about 
their  persons,  with  the  joyful  thought  that  it 
would  help  them  on  their  contemplated 
journey. 

Then,  some  weeks  later,  Rupert  picked  up 
a  stone  which  he  felt  confident  was  a  diamond. 
This  too  he  secreted  with  the  greatest  care, 
sewing  it  securely  upon  the  inner  side  of  the 
deerskin  hunting -shirt  which  he  now  wore  day 
and  night,  and  letting  no  one  but  Juanita 
know  of  its  existence.  From  her  he  had  no 


S60  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

concealments,  for  their  interests  were  one  and 
the  same. 

They  now  watched  more  eagerly  than  ever 
for  the  longed-for  opportunity  ;  but  weeks 
and  months  dragged  on  their  weary  way,  and 
it  came  not. 

Another  winter,  with  its  suffering  from 
cold  and  storms,  from  which  they  were  but 
poorly  protected  in  the  rude  huts  of  the 
savages,  passed  slowly  by,  spring  opened,  and 
once  more  the  braves  went  forth  upon  the 
war-path. 

Seated  together  upon  a  ledge  of  rock  on 
the  side  of  a  mountain  overlooking  the  Indian 
village,  and  forming  part  of  the  barrier  shut 
ting  in  the  little  valley  from  the  outer  world, 
Rupert  and  Juanita  watched  the  departure 
of  the  Apache  chiefs  and  braves,  hideous  in 
their  war-paint  and  feathers  ;  and  as  the  last  of 
them  disappeared  in  the  defile  that  formed  the 
sole  entrance  to  this  natural  mountain  fastness, 
Bupert,  turning  to  his  companion,  said,  in 
tones  of  half -tremulous  eagerness  and  excite 
ment,  "  Juanita,  love,  this  is  our  opportu 
nity  ;  I  doubt  if  we  shall  ever  have  a  better." 

"  What  mean  you,  Rupert  ?"  she  asked  in 
some  surprise  ;  "  what  will  prevent  Light-of- 
the-Morning  from  watching  our  every  moment 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  261 

as  vigilantly  as  ever  ?  and  does  not  old 
Crouching  Wildcat  keep  guard  day  and  night 
at  the  only  entrance  to  the  valley  ?  and  is  he 
not  constantly  armed  and  ready  to  shoot  us 
down  if  we  so  much  as  approach  the  spot 
where  he  stands  sentinel  ?' ' 

"  All  quite  true,"  returned  Rupert  ;  "  yet 
1  have  a  plan  ;  listen,  maiden  mine,  while  1 
unfold  it.  It  is  that  to-day  and  to-morrow  we 
make,  quietly  and  unobserved,  every  prepara 
tion  in  our  power  ;  then  that  you  make  a 
quantity  of  that  savory  venison  stew  that  both 
Light-of-the-Morning  and  Crouching  Wildcat 
delight  in,  adding  a  little  white  powder  which 
I  shall  give  you  ;  let  them  both  sup  upon  it, 
and  they  will  sleep  soundly  for  some  hours — 
so  soundly  that  we  may  steal  from  our  wig 
wams,  join  each  other  at  the  old  warrior's  side, 
and  pass  out  of  the  valley  unmolested  and  un 
noticed  by  him." 

"  And  they  will  wake  again  and  suffer  no 
harm  from  the  powder  ?' '  she  asked. 

"  Yes,' '  he  said.  "  You  know,  Juanita,  I 
would  not  murder  them  even  to  gain  liberty 
for  myself  and  you.  The  powder  will  cause 
them  to  sleep  heavily  for  a  time,  and  perhaps 
make  them  sick  for  some  hours  after,  but  will 
do  them  no  permanent  injury." 


262  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

The  girl's  face  grew  radiant.  "  Oh," 
she  cried,  clasping  her  hands  in  ecstasy,  "  how 
sweet,  how  delightful  to  be  free  !  But  why  not 
to-night  ?  why  should  we  wait  another  day  ?' ' 

"  That  when  our  flight  is  discovered  the 
braves  may  be  too  far  away  for  a  messenger  to 
reach  them  with  the  news  in  time  for  them  to 
overtake  us." 

"  Ah,  yes  ;  you  are  much  wiser  than  I  ; 
you  think  of  everything. " 

The  braves  were  quite  gone  ;  the  last  faint 
echo  of  their  horses'  hoofs  had  died  away  far 
down  the  pass,  and  the  squaws  and  children, 
who  had  been  watching  their  departure,  scat 
tered  to  their  work  or  play. 

Juanita  sighed ;  then,  with  a  shudder, 
"  How  many  bloody  scalps  shall  we  see  dan 
gling  aloft  from  their  spears  when  they  come 
back  !"  she  said. 

"  Please  God,  we  shall  not  be  here  to  be 
hold  the  horrible,  sickening  sight,"  said 
Rupert.  Then  taking  her  hand  in  his, 
' '  Juanita,  you  should  be  my  wife  before  we 
start  upon  our  journey." 

She  glanced  up  into  his  face  half  shyly, 
flushing  rosy  red.  "But  how  can  it  be  ?" 
she  asked  timidly  ;  "  there  is  no  priest  here 
to  unite  us." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  263 

"  We  will  marry  ourselves  by  Friends1 
ceremony,"  lie  said  ;  then  explained  it  to  her, 
for  she  had  never  heard  of  it  before. 

"  I  fear  I  shall  not  feel  married,"  she  re 
marked,  in  a  tone  of  doubt  and  hesitation. 

"I  have  the  same  feeling,"  he  said, 
"  particularly  because  we  have  no  witnesses. 
But  it  is  the  best  we  can  do  now,  and  as  soon 
as  we  can  we  will  be  remarried  by  a  minister. 
"  Juanita,"  tightening  his  clasp  of  her  hand, 
"  I  take  you  to  be  my  wife,  and  promise  to  be 
to  you  a  true,  faithful,  and  loving  husband  till 
death  do  us  part." 

The  beautiful  eyes  filled  with  glad  tears. 
41  And  I,"  she  said,  in  low,  musical  tones, 
t(  take  you,  Rupert,  to  be  my  lawful  and 
wedded  husband,  and  promise  to  be  to  you  a 
true,  loving,  faithful,  and  obedient  wife." 

He  put  his  arm  about  her,  and  drew  her 
into  a  close,  tender  embrace,  imprinting  a  long 
and  ardent  kiss  upon  the  rich  red  lips.  "  We 
are  one,  love, ' '  he  whispered,  ' '  and  what  God 
hath  joined  together  shall  no  man  put 
asunder." 

After  some  further  discussion  of  their 
plans  they  separated,  and  by  mutual  consent 
were  seen  together  less  than  usual  during  that 
day  and  the  next,  so  fearful  were  they  of 


264  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

arousing  suspicion  of  their  design  to  attempt 
an  escape. 

But  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day 
Rupert  contrived  to  give  Juanita  the  little 
morphine  powder  which  she  was  to  adminis 
ter  to  Light-of-the-Morning  and  Crouching 
Wildcat,  and  to  do  it  unperceived  by  any  of 
the  Indians. 

Juanita  hastily  concealed  it,  fastening  it 
into  the  folds  of  her  tunic  with  a  pin. 

There  were  but  few  cooking  utensils  in  the 
Indian  village,  but  Light-of-the-Morning  was 
the  proud  possessor  of  a  little  iron  pot  carried 
off  by  the  braves  in  one  of  their  raids  upon 
their  white  neighbors,  and  of  this  Juanita  was 
allowed  to  make  use  in  preparing  the  savory 
stew  of  which  Rupert  had  spoken. 

When  she  proposed  doing  so  to-night,  the 
old  squaw  nodded  consent  with  a  smile  of  ap 
proval. 

The  newly  made  bride  went  cheerily  to 
work,  moving  about  with  her  accustomed 
grace,  and  softly  humming  a  snatch  of  song^ 
yet  with  a  quaking  heart  as  she  thought  of  the 
risk  she  and  Rupert  were  now  to  run. 

As  he  and  she  were  to  partake  of  the  meal, 
ehe  also  broiled  venison  and  fish  over  the  coals, 
and  baked  bread,  making  her  dough  into  long, 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  265 

slender  rolls,  which  she  then  twisted  round 
and  round  a  stick  ;  that  she  stuck  into  the 
ground  close  to  the  fire,  and  so  baked  the 
bread,  now  and  then  pulling  up  the  stick  and 
replanting  it  with  another  side  to  the  fire. 

Light-of-the-Morning  sat  watching  her 
with  a  look  of  great  satisfaction,  evidently 
enjoying  the  feast  in  anticipation. 

At  length  all  was  ready,  and  Juanita  began 
to  despair  of  an  opportunity  to  carry  out  her 
design,  when  the  squaw  supplied  it  by  seizing 
a  gourd  and  going  for  water  for  the  meal. 

She  had  scarcely  dropped  the  curtain  of 
the  wigwam  behind  her  ere  Juanita  had 
snatched  the  powder  from  its  hiding-place  and 
poured  it  into  the  stew,  trembling  and  turning 
pale  as  she  did  it ;  for  oh,  how  much  depended 
upon  the  success  of  the  measure  ! 

And  it  was  an  anxious  moment  to  both 
herself  and  Rupert  when  Light-of-the-Morn 
ing  first  tasted  of  the  medicated  dish.  She 
paused,  tasted  again,  and  remarked  that  it  was 
not  quite  so  good  as  usual,  had  a  slightly 
bitter  taste  ;  Juanita  must  have  been  careless 
and  let  it  scorch  ;  but  to  their  great  relief  she 
went  on  to  make  a  hearty  meal  of  it,  not 
seeming  to  notice  that  neither  of  them  touch* 
ed  it. 


266  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

There  was  a  good  deal  left,  and  Rupert 
surreptitiously  carried  it  off  to  Crouching 
Wildcat,  who  received  the  attention  with  satis 
faction,  and  devoured  the  food  with  great 
gusto,  apparently  never  noticing  the  unusual 
taste  of  which  the  squaw  had  complained. 

Although  but  little  past  sunset,  the  village 
was  already  quiet,  scarcely  any  one,  old  or 
young,  to  be  seen  moving  ;  for  as  a  rule  they 
kept  early  hours  there. 

Juanita  had  purposely  delayed  the  evening 
meal  in  Thunder- Cloud's  wigwam,  rather  to 
the  displeasure  of  its  mistress,  whose  appetite 
had  grown  very  keen  while  waiting  ;  a  good 
thing  for  the  success  of  the  young  people's 
plans,  for  she  ate  very  heartily,  and  almost 
immediately  threw  herself  down  on  her  couch 
of  skins  and  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

It  was  thus  Rupert  found  her  on  bringing 
back  the  vessel  in  which  he  had  carried 
Crouching  Wildcat  his  portion. 

Juanita  sat  beside  the  couch,  gazing  upon 
the  sleeper  with  bated  breath,  her  hands 
folded  in  her  lap,  her  whole  frame  trembling 
with  excitement. 

As  Rupert  pushed  aside  the  curtain  and 
entered,  she  looked  up  at  him,  and  laid  her 
finger  upon  her  lips. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  267 

He  smiled  and  nodded,  then  stooped  and 
whispered  in  her  ear,  "  All  is  already  quiet ;  I 
think  we  may  set  out  as  soon  as  it  is  dark 
enough  to  gain  the  entrance  of  the  pass  un- 
perceived.  Come  then,  love  ;  you  will  find 
me  there." 

Her  speaking  eyes  gave  the  promise  he 
sought,  and  with  a  parting,  half-regretful 
glance  at  the  old  squaw,  who  had  always  been 
kind  to  him  and  Juanita  also,  he  left  the  wig 
wam. 

Withdrawing  to  a  short  distance,  he  knelt 
in  the  shadow  of  a  tree  and  poured  out  his 
soul  in  fervent  prayer  for  guidance  and  help 
in  this  perilous  undertaking. 

The  shades  of  evening  were  falling  fast  as 
he  rose  from  his  knees.  He  sent  one  swift 
glance  around  to  make  sure  that  no  human  eye 
was  near  enough  to  watch  his  movements,  and, 
satisfied  of  that,  walked  with  rapid  yet  noise 
less  step  toward  the  foot  of  the  mountain  that 
shut  in  the  valley  on  the  nearest  side. 

Ascending  a  little  way,  he  came  to  a  ledge 
of  rock  ;  here  stooping  down  and  thrusting 
aside  the  overhanging  branches  of  a  wild  vine 
that  concealed  a  little  hollow,  he  took  from 
thence  a  bundle  of  jerked  buffalo  meat  and 
venison,  which  he  had  collected  in  preparation 


268  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

for  the  flight,  and  with  it  in  his  hand  rapidly 
retraced  his  steps. 

He  paused  beneath  the  tree  he  had  but 
just  left,  to  take  another  reconnoitring 
glance,  and  was  startled  to  find  some  one  lean 
ing  against  it,  the  faint  outline  of  whose  figure 
was  barely  perceptible  in  the  gathering  dark 
ness  ;  but  only  for  an  instant ;  the  next  he 
knew  it  was  Juanita,  and  his  arm  stole  round 
her  waist. 

"My  love,  my  darling,"  he  whispered, 
"  does  your  heart  fail  you  ?" 

"  No,  beloved,  not  while  you  are  with  me 
and  lead  the  way,"  she  answered  softly. 

"  Come,  then  ;  I  think  they  are  all  asleep, 
and  it  is  quite  dark  ;  now  is  our  time,"  he 
said,  taking  her  hand  and  leading  her  onward. 

Both  had  learned  to  walk  with  the  Indian's 
noiseless  tread  ;  they  wore  moccasins,  and 
there  was  no  sound  of  footsteps  as  they 
pursued  their  silent  way  to  the  mouth  of  the 
pass. 

Before  they  reached  it  the  loud  snoring  of 
the  sentinel  told  them  there  was  no  danger  of 
molestation  from  him.  He  lay  prone  upon 
the  ground,  so  soundly  asleep  that  Rupert  was 
able  to  divest  him  of  his  arms  without  waking 
him. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  269 

The  gun,  powder-horn,  and  shot-bag  were 
Rupert's  own,  which  had  been  taken  from 
him  at  the  time  of  his  capture,  so  that  the 
most  scrupulous  conscience  could  have  seen 
no  wrong  in  his  taking  possession  ;  though, 
indeed,  had  they  not  been  his  own  he  would 
have  thought  it  no  robbery  under  the  circum 
stances. 

He  was  exceedingly  glad  to  find  both  bag 
and  horn  well  filled,  for  on  that  largely 
depended  his  ability  to  supply  food  for  him 
self  and  Juanita  on  the  long  journey  that  lay 
before  them  ere  they  could  reach  the  confines 
of  civilization. 

Attaching  those  two  articles  to  the  belt 
that  confined  his  hunting-shirt  about  the  waist, 
and  putting  the  gun  over  his  shoulder,  with 
the  bag  of  dried  meat  hung  upon  it,  he  took 
Juanita' s  hand  in  his  again,  and  led  her  up 
the  pass,  away  from  the  scene  of  their 
captivity. 

It  was  very  dark  in  that  narrow  defile, 
with  the  mountains  towering  far  above  them 
on  each  side,  and  the  way  was  narrow,  rough, 
and  stony  ;  again  and  again  they  stumbled 
and  were  near  falling,  yet  held  each  other  up  ; 
but  they  pressed  patiently,  determinately  on 
ward,  without  pause  or  exchange  of  word  or 


270  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

syllable,  till  they  reached  the  end,  and  came 
out  upon  a  wide  open  plain. 

The  newly-risen  moon,  flooding  it  with 
silver  light,  showed  them  something  of  its 
nature  and  extent ;  it  was  treeless  and,  ex 
cept  along  the  margin  of  a  stream  that  crossed 
it,  a  sandy  waste.  It  did  not  look  inviting, 
but  across  it  lay  the  path  to  freedom,  home, 
and  friends. 

They  paused  but  a  moment  to  recover 
breath  and  take  in  the  view  by  one  sweeping 
glance  from  side  to  side,  then  pressed  forward 
more  rapidly  than  had  been  possible  in  the 
darkness  of  the  defile  from  which  they  had 
just  emerged. 

"  Thank  God,  there  is  no  foe  in  sight  !" 
ejaculated  Rupert,  ' '  but  we  must  make  all 
haste  across  this  plain  ;  for  if  pursued  we  can 
be  seen  from  a  great  distance.  Also  let  us 
gain  yonder  stream  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
walk  in  the  water  to  destroy  the  scent  of  our 
footsteps,  and  leave  no  mark  of  a  trail,  by 
which  we  can  be  tracked. ' ' 

"  Yes,  yes,"  panted  Juanita  ;  "oh,  let  us 
hasten." 

"  My  poor  darling,  you  are  already  almost 
spent,"  Rupert  said  tenderly,  "  Lean  on 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  271 

me.     If  I  were  but  free  of  the  gun  and  bag  of 
meat,  I  would  take  you  in  my  arms." 

"  No,  no,"  she  returned,  with  a  little 
pleased  laugh.  "  I  should  not  allow  it.  I 
am  but  a  trifle  out  of  breath  ;  that  is  all,  my 
best  of  husbands." 

"  I  am  happy  to  hear  it,"  he  said,  "  for  I 
fear  your  strength  will  be  sorely  tried  before 
we  can  reach  a  place  of  safety.  Draw  your 
blanket  more  closely  about  you,  for  the  night 
wind  has  full  sweep  across  this  open  plain,  and 
its  cold  is  piercing." 

They  had  both  been  forced  to  adopt  the  Ind 
ian  style  of  dress  ;  Juanita  had  neither  cloak 
nor  shawl,  but  wore  a  blanket  wrapped  about 
her  shoulders,  after  the  manner  of  the  squaws. 

She  drew  it  closer,  took  Rupert's  arm,  and 
they  sped  swiftly  over  the  plain,  the  sense  of 
impending  danger  lending  them  unnatural 
strength  and  speed. 

They  reached  the  stream,  and  followed  its 
course  for  some  miles,  keeping  just  within 
the  water's  edge,  then  left  it  for  a  more  direct 
route,  which  brought  them,  about  daylight,  to 
a  dense  forest. 

Being  now  utterly  spent  with  fatigue,  they 
were  obliged  to  stop  and  take  some  rest. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME. 


Rupert  spread  his  blanket  at  the  foot  of  a  tree, 
made  J  uanita  lie  down  upon  it,  and  carefully 
covered  her  with  his  own.  "  My  poor  child, 
how  very  weary  you  are  !"  he  sighed  in  ten 
der  accents. 

"  Ah,  if  I  could  but  provide  a  cup  of  hot 
coffee  and  a  good  warm  breakfast  for  your  re 
freshment  !  But  1  have  nothing  to  offer  you 
but  this  dried  venison,  and  dare  not  even 
kindle  a  fire  to  dry  your  wet  feet,  lest  the 
smoke  should  attract  the  attention  of  our 
savage  foes." 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  with  a  determined  effort 
to  be  cheerful,  and  giving  him  a  sweet,  bright 
smile,  "  we  will  not  mind  such  trifles,  if  only 
we  may  escape  being  recaptured.  Give  me  a 
bit  of  the  venison  ;  I  can  eat  it  with  ap 
petite.  " 

They  rested  and  slept  where  they  were  for 
some  hours  ;  then,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
started  on  again  through  the  forest,  trying  to 
keep  a  south-easterly  direction,  and  guided  by 
the  sun,  of  which  they  caught  occasional 
glimpses  between  the  tall  tree-tops. 

About  the  time  of  his  setting  they  came 
out  upon  a  little  opening  in  the  forest  ;  and 
here  they  halted,  made  another  meal  upon  the 
dried  meat,  then  lay  down  and  slept  until  the 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  273 

moon  rose,  when  they  pressed  on  again, 
guided  by  her  light. 

So  for  many  weeks  they  journeyed  on,  the 
sun  guiding  them  by  day,  the  moon  and  stars 
at  night,  sometimes,  when  clouds  covered 
these  from  view,  obliged  to  lie  by  for  hours 
or  days  ;  often  compelled  to  do  so  from  utter 
weakness  and  weariness,  drinking  water  from 
the  streams,  and  satisfying  their  hunger  upon 
fish  caught  in  them,  or  such  game  as  Rupert 
was  able  to  bring  down  with  his  gun  or  catch 
in  snares  laid  for  them  when  he  and  Juanita 
stopped  for  a  night's  rest. 

He  kept  an  account  of  the  days  of  the 
week,  and  was  careful  to  observe  the  rest  of 
the  Sabbath.  He  had  brought  his  Bible  with 
him,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  day  would  be 
passed  in  the  study  of  its  pages  and  prayer  to 
that  God  who  is  everywhere  present  and  able 
to  deliver  from  all  dangers  and  fears.  Rupert 
and  Juanita  were  in  a  situation  to  feel  very 
sensibly  the  need  of  His  protecting  care  ;  for 
danger  from  wild  beasts  and  roving  bands  of 
Indians  threatened  them  on  every  side  ;  ven 
omous  reptiles,  too,  often  lay  in  their  path,  and 
they  were  not  seldom  assailed  by  both  hunger 
and  thirst,  sometimes  travelling  many,  many 
miles  without  finding  either  food  or  water. 


Cjmpler 


"Sir,  you  are  very  welcome  to  our  house  : 
It  must  appear  in  other  ways  than  words, 
Therefore  I  scant  this  breathing  courtesy." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

IT  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  a  sultry 
August  day  that  our  poor  travellers,  footsore 
and  weary,  reached  a  great  cattle  ranch  in 
Texas,  owned  and  occupied  by  a  family  of  the 
name  of  Baird,  who  had  emigrated  from  Ohio 
years  before. 

Their  large,  comfortable  house,  separated 
from  the  road  by  a  wide,  grassy  yard  and 
flower-garden,  was  the  first  civilized  dwelling 
Rupert  and  Juanita  had  seen  since  their  capt 
ure  by  the  Indians,  and  their  pulses  quick 
ened  with  joy  at  the  sight. 

Mrs.  Baird  was  getting  supper  for  her  hus 
band  and  sons,  all  of  whom  were  in  the  field 
with  the  cattle.  Turning  from  the  fire  where 
she  was  broiling  chickens,  baking  biscuit,  and 
frying  potatoes,  she  caught  sight  of  two  for 
lorn  figures  coming  up  the  garden  path. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  275 

"  Injuns  !"  she  cried  aloud,  as,  pale  and 
breathless  with  fright,  she  looked  this  way 
and  that  for  some  weapon  of  defence,  "  and 
me  here  alone  !" 

But  a  second  glance  reassured  her.  They 
were  nearing  the  open  door,  and  she  could 
see  not  only  that  they  were  whites,  but  that 
there  was  nothing  sinister  or  fierce  in  the  ex 
pression  of  the  man's  face,  while  that  of  the 
young  girl,  though  pale  and  travel-stained, 
was  winsome  and  even  beautiful. 

She  stepped  forward  with  a  cordial  "  How 
d'ye  do  ?  Walk  in,  and  sit  down,  and  rest, 
for  you  are  dreadfully  tired,  I  know,"  setting 
out  some  chairs  as  she  spoke. 

"Thank  you,  madam;  indeed  we  are," 
Rupert  replied,  lifting  his  hat  with  a  courtly 
bow. 

But  as  they  crossed  the  threshold  Juanita 
staggered,  and  would  have  fallen  had  not  he 
caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  my  darling,  my  darling  !"  he  cried 
in  tones  of  acute  distress,  ' '  have  food  and  rest 
come  too  late  for  you  ?" 

"  Food  and  rest  ?"  repeated  Mrs.  Baird, 
greatly  shocked,  "is  she  starved?  Here, 
lay  her  down  quick  on  the  lounge  in  the  sit 
ting-room,  and  I'll  bring  her  a  glass  of 


276  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

milk  at  once  ;  '  twont  take  me  a  minute  to 
get  it." 

With  a  word  of  thanks  Rupert  followed 
the  good  woman's  directions,  and  had  scarcely 
done  so  ere  she  was  at  his  side  with  the  milk. 

He  raised  Juanita's  head.  Mrs.  Baird  held 
the  glass  to  her  lips,  and  noted,  with  tears  of 
mingled  joy  and  compassion,  the  eagerness 
with  which  it  was  swallowed. 

Then  a  sudden  thought  sent  her  flying 
from  the  room  to  return  immediately  with  a 
pitcher,  from  which  she  filled  the  glasses  again 
and  again,  first  for  Juanita,  then  for  Rupert. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  when  her  pitcher  was 
empty,  "  you  shall  both  have  a  good  hearty 
supper  in  about  ten  minutes.  If  you'd  like  to 
wash  off  the  dust  first,  you'll  find  soap,  water, 
and  towels  handy  out  there  on  the  porch. 
Now  I  must  leave  you,  or  my  supper  will  be 
all  spoiled. " 

"  O  Rupert,  how  good  and  kind  she  is  !" 
whispered  Juanita,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  as 
their  hostess  left  them  alone  together,  "  and 
she  could  never  suppose  from  our  appearance 
that  we  have  anything  to  pay  with." 

"  No  ;  she  must  be  a  truly  benevolent 
woman,  and  a  Christian  one  also,  I  think  ;  and 
truly  we  have  great  reason  to  thank  our 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  277 

heavenly  Father  for  bringing  us  to  such  an 
one  in  our  sore  need,' '  said  Rupert,  adding,  a& 
Juanita  made  a  movement  as  if  to  rise,  "  Lie 
still,  love  ;  I  will  bring  a  basin  of  water  to 

you." 

"  Please  do,"  she  answered,  lying  down 
again  ;  "  a  wash  will  be  very  refreshing.  Ah, 
if  one  only  had  some  clean  clothes  to  put 
on!" 

"  That  desire  also  shall  be  granted  before 
long,  my  darling,"  Rupert  answered  between 
a  tear  and  a  smile,  glancing  down  rather  rue 
fully  at  the  worn  and  soiled  garments  of  his 
pretty  young  wife. 

He  had  shielded  her  as  far  as  possible  from 
the  hardnesses  of  their  terrible  journey,  yet 
he  knew  that  her  sufferings  had  been  great — 
so  great  that  his  kind,  loving  heart  bled  at  the 
very  thought  of  them. 

She  had  beautiful  hair,  very  tine,  soft, 
glossy  and  black  as  the  raven's  wing  ;  very 
long  and  luxuriant  too  ;  when  unconflned 
falling  in  a  great  mass  of  ringlets  below  her 
waist. 

Rupert  was  very  proud  of  it,  as  well  as  of 
her  regular  and  delicate  features,  her  starry 
eyes,  sylphlike  form,  and  graceful  move 
ments. 


278  MILDRED  AT  HOME, 

At  present  she  wore  her  hair  in  a  great 
coil  at  the  back  of  her  shapely  head,  held  in 
place  by  a  wooden  pin  that  he  had  made  for 
her. 

"  May  I  take  this  down  and  comb  it  out 
for  you?"  he  asked,  laying  his  hand  caress 
ingly  upon  it.  "  But  perhaps  it  would  tire 
you  too  much." 

"  Oh  no,  it  would  rather  be  a  refresh 
ment,"  she  answered,  smiling  up  at  him, 
"  and  1  shall  be  much  obliged." 

So  he  did,  then  brought  her  the  water  to 
lave  her  hands  and  face. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Baird,  busy  with  her 
preparations  for  the  evening  meal,  was  full  of 
curiosity  in  regard  to  her  unexpected  guests. 
""Who  can  they  be  ?"  she  questioned  with 
herself,  "  and  where  in  the  world  did  they 
come  from  ?  It's  as  plain  as  day  that  he's  a 
gentleman  and  she  a  lady  ;  they  look  it  in 
spite  of  their  odd,  shabby  dress  ;  and  they 
speak  good,  pure  English  in  refined  tones, 
though  she  has  a  little  foreign  accent.  She 
looks  Spanish,  but  he's  an  American  ;  I'm 
sure  of  that.  Shouldn't  wonder  if  he's  from 
my  own  State — from  that  section  anyway,  for 
he's  neither  a  New  Englandernor  a  Southern 
er.  But  their  dress — why,  it's  nearer  Injun 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  279 

than  anything  else  ;  well,  now  I  wonder — " 
and  hurrying  to  the  sitting-room  door  she 
addressed  Rupert  : 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  I'd  like  to  ask  a 
question.  Have  you  been  among  the  In 
juns  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said  ;  "  we  escaped  about  three 
months  ago  from  an  Apache  village,  where  we 
had  been  prisoners  for  three  years. " 

"  Dear  me  !  how  dreadful  !  And  that 
must  have  been  a  long  way  off  ;  how  did  you 
ever  get  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  must  be  hundreds  of  miles,  and 
we  have  walked  all  the  way." 

"  Oh  you  poor  things!"  she  cried,  the 
tears  coursing  down  her  cheeks  ;  "no  won 
der  you're  completely  worn  out.  Your  suffer 
ings  must  have  been  dreadful. " 

"  They  have  not  been  small,"  Rupert  said, 
with  emotion,  his  glance  resting  pityingly  for 
an  instant  upon  Juanita's  wan  features  ;  "  but 
as  our  days,  our  strength  has  been,  for  God  is 
faithful  to  His  promises.  And  now,"  he 
added,  with  a  brightening  countenance,  "  the 
worst  is  all  over,  I  trust." 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  you  must  stay  here  till 
you're  quite  rested,"  she  said,  with  cordial 
hospitality.  "  And  as  soon  as  there's  a  good 


280  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

chance  I'd  like  to  hear  your  whole  story.     It 
can't  fail  to  be  interesting." 

Turning  hastily  away  with  the  last  wordr 
she  seized  a  tin  horn,  and  going  to  the  back 
door  blew  a  vigorous  blast. 

Her  husband,  three  stalwart  sons  grown  to 
man's  estate,  and  a  slender  lad  of  twelve,  the 
youngest  and  therefore  the  family  pet,  came 
hurrying  from  the  field  in  answer  to  the  sum 
mons. 

The  wife  and  mother  met  them  at  the 
threshold,  her  still  fresh  and  comely  face  full 
of  excitement.  "  "We  have  guests,"  she  said. 

"  Who  on  earth,  mother  ?"  ejaculated 
Joe,  the  eldest  son,  while  his  father  remarked, 
"  They're  welcome,  whoever  they  are,  if 
they're  honest,  decent  folks." 

"  That  I'll  engage  they  are  !"  she 
answered,  "  though  their  clothes  are  shabby 
enough  ;  but  they're  escaped  captives  from 
the  Apaches  ;  have  been  travelling  through 
the  wilderness  for  months  on  foot,  and  of 
course  are  in  a  very  bad  plight." 

Her  announcement  was  met  by  various  ex 
clamations  of  surprise  and  commiseration,  ac 
cording  to  the  characters  and  dispositions  of 
the  speakers. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  and  of  course,  father^ 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  281 

we'll  keep  them  here  till  they're  rested,  poor 
things,  and  then  help  them  on  their  way  to 
their  friends,  if  they  have  any." 

"Of  course,  of  course,  wife,"  answered 
the  man  of  the  house,  cheerily.  ' '  But  where 
are  they  ?" 

"  In  the  sitting-room.  Go  in  and  speak 
to  them,  won't  you  ?  and  ask  them  out  to  sup 
per  ;  it's  just  ready." 

"  I'll  do  that  !"  he  said,  hanging  up  the 
towel  he  had  been  using. 

In  another  minute  he  was  shaking  hands 
cordially  with  Rupert,  while  congratulating 
him  on  his  escape  from  the  Indians,  and 
assuring  him  and  Juanita  of  their  welcome  to 
the  hospitalities  of  the  ranch  as  long  as  they 
might  be  pleased  to  accept  them.  "  No  obli 
gations,  young  man,"  he  said,  interrupting 
Rupert's  expression  of  thanks  ;  "  you'd  do 
the  same  for  me  if  our  situations  were  re 
versed  ;  and  besides,  any  decent  stranger  is  a 
godsend  in  these  lonely  parts  ;  and  the  cost  of 
entertaining,  where  you  have  everything  on 
your  place  and  no  market  for  it,  is  just  about 
nothing.  Come,  walk  out  to  supper,"  he 
added  ;  "  it's  on  the  table,  and  best  while  it's 
hot." 

He  led  the  way,  and  they  followed  right 


282  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

willingly,  for  the  smell  of  the  viands  was  ex 
tremely  appetizing,  and  the  milk  had  by  no 
means  appeased  their  hunger. 

Mrs.  Baird  greeted  them  with  a  smile, 
pointed  out  their  seats,  and  with  an  inclination 
of  the  head  toward  the  younger  members  of 
the  family,  said,  "  My  sons,  Mr  • •" 

"  Keith, "  supplied  Rupert,  as  she  paused 
with  an  inquiring  look  at  him  ;  "  Rupert 
Keith  is  my  name,  and  this  young  lady," 
glancing  at  Juanita,  "  is — " 

There  was  an  instant's  hesitation,  then  he 
added,  "my  wife,"  coloring  slightly  as  he 
spoke. 

He  was  conscious  of  a  furtive  exchange  of 
wondering,  inquiring  glances  among  his  enter 
tainers,  but  no  remark  was  made. 

They  all  sat  down  to  the  table,  the  father 
asked  a  blessing  upon  the  food,  and  the  meal 
began. 

Presently  Rupert  said,  with  a  frank  look 
into  the  face  of  his  host,  "  I  must  ask  to  be 
permitted  to  explain  my  hesitation  of  a  mo 
ment  ago. 

"  Juanita  and  1  have  been  fellow-captives 
among  the  Apaches.  They  carried  her  off  in 
a  raid  into  Mexico — her  native  land.  Me  they 
captured  on  my  way  from  Indiana  to  Cali- 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  283 

fornia,  and  we  made  our  acquaintance  in  the 
Indian  village. 

"  It  was  not  long  before  we  became 
lovers,  but  there  was  no  one  there  to  unite  us 
in  marriage.  Just  previous  to  making  our 
escape  we  married  ourselves  by  Friends'  cere 
mony,  as  the  best  we  could  do  ;  but  having 
had  no  witnesses,  we  do  not  feel  quite  satis 
fied  that  the  knot  has  been  tied  as  tightly  as  it 
ought  to  be  (the  reason  of  my  hesitation  to 
claim  her  as  fully  mine),"  he  put  in  parentheti 
cally  and  with  a  look  and  smile  of  ardent  af 
fection  directed  to  his  bride,  "  and  as  soon  as 
we  can  come  across  a  minister  we  will  get  him 
to  tighten  it,"  he  concluded,  with  a  half -spor 
tive  look  and  tone.  Then,  more  gravely, 
"  Is  there  one  in  this  neighborhood?"  he 
inquired. 

All  present  had  listened  with  evident  in 
terest  to  his  explanation  ;  the  father  of  the 
family  now  answered,  "  None  very  near,  but 
there's  a  Methodist  minister  of  the  name  of 
Clark,  who  passes  here  every  other  Sunday  on 
his  way  to  a  school-house  six  miles  beyond, 
where  he  preaches.  He  generally  takes  his 
dinner  here,  and  that  will  be  a  good  chance  for 
you,  if  you  can  wait  for  it." 

'Twon't  be  so  long,  father,"  remarked 


u 


284  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

his  wife,  cheerily  ;  "  this  is  Friday,  and  next 
Sunday  is  Mr.  Clark's  day." 

"  Why,  to  be  sure,  so  it  is  !"  ejaculated 
her  spouse,  turning  a  beaming  face  upon 
Rupert  and  Juanita. 

"  We  can  wait,"  Juanita  said  in  her  liquid 
tones,  speaking  for  the  first  time  since  she  had 
sat  down  to  the  table.  "  1  am  but  poorly 
prepared  so  far  as  regards  my  dress,"  she 
added,  with  blushing  cheek  and  a  shy,  down 
ward  glance  at  her  forlorn  attire. 

Rupert  gave  her  a  tenderly  sympathizing 
look,  then  turning  to  their  host  asked,  "  Is 
there  any  place  within  reach  where  clothing 
may  be  procured  ?  I  have  means  to  pay  for 
it,  and  we  are  both,  as  you  see,  sorely  in  need 
of  it." 

"  The  nearest  place  is  twenty  miles  away, 
and  it's  none  of  the  best,"  was  the  discourag 
ing  reply.  "  However,  we'll  see  what  can  be 
done  ;  Joe  can  drive  you  over  to-morrow,  if 
you  feel  like  taking  the  trip  ;  but  I  should 
think  you'd  better  rest  a  few  days  first." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  1  should  think  so,"  chimed 
in  Mrs.  Baird  ;  "  and  Joe  can  lend  him  a 
suit  to  be  married  in  (they  look  to  be  pretty 
near  of  a  size),  and  I'll  find  something  for  the 
young  lady." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  285 

"  Certainly,  certainly  !"  assented  Joe  with 
ready  cordiality  and  a  kindly  look  at  Rupert, 
who  was  beaming  with  joy  and  gratitude. 

"You  are  all  exceedingly  kind, "  he  said 
with  emotion. 

And  truly  he  and  Juanita  looked  in  need 
of  such  kindly  offices.  They  were  dressed 
almost  exactly  alike — in  full  suits  of  deerskin, 
moccasins,  leggings,  and  a  long  loose  shirt 
belted  in  at  the  waist ;  all  much  worn  and 
soiled  with  months  of  constant  wear  and  the 
dust  of  travel.  On  their  arrival  each  had 
worn  a  broad-brimmed  hat  woven  by  Juanita's 
deft  fingers. 

Their  entertainers,  though  eager  to  hear  the 
story  of  their  captivity  and  subsequent  wander 
ings,  kindly  refrained  from  questioning  them 
till  their  appetites  had  been  fully  satisfied. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  meal  Juanita  was 
made  to  lie  down  again,  Mrs.  Baird  insisting 
that  she  must  be  altogether  too  tired  to  sit 
up  ;  Rupert  was  given  an  arm-chair,  and  all 
the  family  gathered  round  him  to  listen  to  a 
lengthened  narrative  of  his  experiences  from 
the  time  of  his  capture  to  the  present. 

Some  passages  were  so  moving  that  there 
was  not  a  dry  eye  in  the  room,  and  tender 
hearted  Mrs.  Baird  sobbed  aloud. 


286  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

When  the  story  seemed  to  have  come  to  an 
end  she  started  up,  saying,  ' '  Dear  me  !  1'  ve 
left  my  dishes  standing  all  this  while  !"  and 
hastily  left  the  room. 

Her  husband  and  sons  remained,  and  plied 
Rupert  with  questions. 

11  "What  have  you  done  with  your  gun  ?" 
asked  Ralph,  the  youngest.  "  You  said  you 
had  one  that  you  stole  back  from  that  old 
Wildcat,  but  I  haven't  noticed  it  anywhere 
round." 

"No,"  Rupert  said  ;  "  when  we  came  in 
sight  of  this  house  I  felt  safe  in  getting  rid  of 
the  burden  of  carrying  it  for  a  while.  Our 
blankets  too  ;  we  were  so  tired  and  the  sun  so 
hot,  that  they  seemed  an  almost  intolerable 
load,  so  1  hid  them  in  a  clump  of  bushes  a 
little  off  the  roadside,  where  I  knew  I  could 
easily  find  them  again." 

"That  was  wise,"  remarked  his  host; 
"  we  will  go  for  them  in  the  morning." 

"  Did  that  old  Wildcat  and  the  rest  chase 
after  you  ?"  queried  Ralph. 

"  Indeed,  my  little  man,  I  do  not  know," 
replied  Rupert.  "  If  so,  it  was  when  it  was 
too  late  for  them  to  overtake  us. ' ' 

' '  I  think  you  managed  splendidly, ' '  re 
marked  Tom,  the  second  son. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  28? 

"  1  think  God  helped  and  took  care  of  us,'* 
Rupert  said,  with  reverent  gratitude. 

"  And  there  you  are  right,"  said  his  host. 
"  '  Except  the  Lord  build  the  house,  they 
labor  in  vain  that  build  it  :  except  the  Lord 
keep  the  city,  the  watchman  waketh  but  in 
vain.'  ' 

"Words  of  inspiration,"  Rupert  said, 
recognizing  them  with  a  smile  of  glad  content. 
"  1  perceive  that  we  are  fellow-servants  of  the 
same  divine  Master,  and  much  1  thank  Him 
for  bringing  me  to  the  house  of  one  of  His 
followers  for  a  short  season  of  rest. ' ' 

11  And  most  welcome  you  are,  sir,  espe 
cially  as  belonging  to  Him,"  returned  Mr. 
Baird,  heartily  ;  "  '  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done 
it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren, 
ye  have  done  it  unto  me. '  Those  words  of 
His  make  it  a  double  delight  to  do  any  kind 
ness  to  one  of  His  disciples. ' ' 

All  this  time  Juanita  had  been  soundly 
sleeping  ;  her  head  had  scarcely  touched  the 
pillow  ere  she  was  lost  to  all  that  was  going 
on  about  her. 

Mrs.  Baird,  coming  in  again,  noticed  that 
Rupert  seemed  very  weary. 

"  You  are  making  Mr.  Keith  talk  too 
much,"  she  said  to  the  others.  "  He's  fairly 


288  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

tired  out,  and  ought  to  be  sleeping  this 
minute.  I'll  make  up  a  bed  directly  for  you, 
and  one  for  her,"  she  added,  addressing 
Rupert,  and  glancing  toward  Juanita  with  the 
last  words. 

"  Oh  no,  do  not  give  yourself  the 
trouble,"  he  hastened  to  say;  "1  doubt  if 
either  of  us  could  sleep  in  a  bed  after  being  so 
long  used  to  nothing  softer  than  a  bear  or 
buffalo  skin  spread  upon  the  ground." 

Mrs.    Baird    gave    him    a    puzzled    look. 
"  What  can  I  do  for  you  then  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Give  me  an  old  quilt  or  something  of  the 
kind,  if  you  have  one  conveniently  at  hand, 
and  I  will  lie  on  the  floor  here. ' ' 

"  Yes  ;  I'll  get  you  a  quilt  and  a  couple  of 
buffalo  robes,"  she  said,  "  though  I'd  rather 
give  you  a  good  bed.  I  may  make  up  one  for 
her,  mayn't  I  ?" 

Rupert  smiled,  and  with  a  loving  glance  at 
Juanita  said,  ' '  1  really  think  she  would  pre 
fer  to  stay  where  she  is  till  to-morrow  morn 
ing.  She  will  probably  sleep  on  till  then 
without  moving  or  so  much  as  opening  an  eye, 
she  is  so  very  weary,  poor  thing  !" 

"And,"  with  a  little  doubtful  hesitation, 
"  you  wouldn't  rather  have  separate  rooms  f 
1  have  plenty  of  them. ' ' 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  289 

"  No  ;  she  is  my  wife,  and  we  have  been 
together  night  and  day  ever  since  our  escape 
from  captivity  ;  and  she  has  slept  close  at  my 
side  or  in  my  arms.  How  could  I  have  it 
otherwise,  with  the  growl  of  the  bear,  the 
savage  howl  of  the  wolf,  or  the  scream  of  the 
wildcat  in  our  ears,  to  say  nothing  of  constant 
danger  from  roving  bands  of  Indians  ?" 

11  Sure  enough,  sir  ;  and  she  is  your  wife  I 
Well,  it  shall  be  just  as  you  wish,  though  it 
does  seem  like  treating  you  both  very  inhos 
pitably." 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear  madam.  In  fact, 
neither  of  us  would  be  willing  to  get  into  one 
of  your  nice  clean  beds  without  a  bath  and 
change  of  raiment,  which  we  cannot  have  at 
present." 

"  Why,  yes  you  can,  of  course,"  put  in 
Joe;  "  we  have  a  bath-room,  and  I'll  supply 
you  with  a  change  of  clothes,  without  waiting 
for  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clark's  coming,' '  he  added, 
with  a  good-humored  laugh. 

"  And  I'll  do  the  same  by  your  wife  to 
morrow  morning,"  said  the  mother,  as  she 
hurried  away  in  search  of  the  quilt. 

She  kept  her  word,  and  Juanita  appeared 
at  the  breakfast-table  very  agreeably  metamor 
phosed  by  civilized  garments,  though  the 


390  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

calico  dress  was  a  little  faded,  and  had  to  be 
belted  in  about  the  waist  because  it  was 
several  sizes  too  large. 

But  no  attire,  however  uncouth,  could  hide 
the  gracefulness  of  her  form  and  movements, 
•or  mar  the  beauty  of  her  face. 

"  They  won't  come  anywhere  near  fitting, 
you  are  so  much  more  slender  than  1  am, ' ' 
Mrs.  Baird  had  remarked  when  offering 
them,  "  but  at  least  they  are  sweet  and  clean 
as  soap  and  water  can  make  them." 

"  The  best  possible  recommendation,  dear 
lady, ' '  Juanita  answered,  with  a  joyous  smile. 
•"  Oh,  you  do  not  know  how  glad  I  shall  be  to 
be  clean  once  more  !  You  could  only  learn 
by  living  in  a  wigwam  for  three  years  and 
then  travelling  through  the  woods  and  over 
the  mountains  and  prairies  in  the  one  suit, 
wearing  it  day  and  night. " 

"  A  great  deal  more  than  I  should  be 
willing  to  pay  for  the  knowledge,"  returned 
her  hostess  between  a  smile  and  a  tear. 
""  You  poor  young  thing  !  What  a  fearful 
time  you  must  have  had  !" 

Rupert's  appearance  had  undergone  quite 
as  great  an  improvement  as  Juanita's,  and 
they  exchanged  many  admiring  glances  during 
the  meal. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  291 

Afterward,  when  they  found  themselves 
alone  together  for  a  moment,  "  How  lovely 
you  are  this  morning,  my  darling  !"  exclaimed 
Rupert,  catching  Juanita  in  his  arms  and 
giving  her  a  rapturous  embrace. 

"You  too,"  she  said,  laying  one  small 
hand  on  each  of  his  broad  shoulders  and  gaz 
ing  fondly  up  into  his  face. 

"  It's  the  clothes — altogether  the  clothes 
in  my  case,  I  fear,"  he  returned,  half  laugh 
ingly  ;  "savage  attire  is  none  too  becoming 
to  me." 

"  Nor  to  me,"  she  responded  ;  "  it's  the 
change  of  dress  with  me  as  well  as  with  you. 
But  oh,  my  Rupert,  I  have  always  thought 
you  the  handsomest  of  men,  even  in  savage 
attire  !" 

"  Little  flatterer  !"  he  said,  laughing  and 
pinching  her  cheek,  yet  evidently  not  ill 
pleased  with  the  compliment.  "  That  dress  is. 
extremely  becoming  ;  really  you  are  positively 
bewitching  in  it. ' ' 

"  Ah,  who  is  the  flatterer  now  ?"  she  cried,, 
clapping  her  hands  and  laughing  gleefully. 

Ralph  looked  in  at  the  door.  ' '  Mr_ 
Keith,  father  says  would  you  like  to  come  and 

V  V 

look  at  some  of  our  fine  cattle,  if  you  are  not  • 
too  tired  ?" 


292  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  should,  thank  you," 
Rupert  answered,  letting  go  of  Juanita  to 
follow  the  boy,  but  turning  back  again  to 
kiss  her  good-by  and  bid  her  take  all  the  rest 
«he  could. 

"Thanks,  senor,"  she  returned  gayly, 
""  but  I  feel  quite  fresh  this  morning,  and  I 
must  see  if  I  cannot  give  a  little  help  to  our 
kind  hostess.  She  seems  to  have  no  servant, 
and  our  presence  here  must  add  to  her 
labors." 

"Quite  right,"  he  said,  with  an  ap 
proving  smile,  "  but  do  not  overtax  your 
strength. ' ' 

Mrs.  Baird  was  not  in  the  kitchen,  where 
Juanita  expected  to  find  her,  but  hearing  the 
light  step  of  the  latter,  called  to  her  from  an 
inner  room. 

"Come  here,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "and 
tell  me  what  you  think  of  this." 

It  was  a  white  dress  of  fine  cambric  mus 
lin,  its  skirt,  waist,  and  sleeves  elaborately 
trimmed  with  tiny  tucks,  embroidery,  and 
lace.  Mrs.  Baird  held  it  up  to  view,  repeating 
her  query,  "  What  do  you  think  of  this  ?" 

"That  it  is  very  pretty,"  Juanita  an 
swered,  examining  it  closely.  "  What  beau 
tifully  fine  needlework." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  293 

"  Yes  ;  it's  a  dress  1  had  when  I  was  mar 
ried,"  remarked  Mrs.  Baird.  "  I  was  a  bit 
of  a  slender  girl  then,  as  you  are  now.  1 
never  wore  it  much,  and  after  a  while  1  grew 
too  stout  for  it.  1  thought  of  it  last  night 
when  considering  what  could  be  found  for  you 
to  wear  to-morrow,  so  I've  just  been  rum 
maging  through  these  bureau  drawers  in  search 
of  it. 

"  Of  course  it  must  be  very  old-fashioned, 
and  it's  very  yellow  with  lying  by  so  long  ; 
but  there  won't  be  anybody  here  that  knows 
about  the  fashions,  or  will  mind  that  it  isn't 
as  white  as  it  should  be.  So  if  you  are  willing 
to  wear  it  just  try  it  on  to  see  if  it  comes  any 
where  near  fitting,  and  if  it  does  I'll  have  it 
in  the  washtub  in  a  trice  ;  and  1  really  think  it 
won't  look  so  badly  when  I'm  done  with  it." 

"  How  very  kind  you  are,  dear  lady  !" 
exclaimed  Juanita,  catching  Mrs.  Baird's  hand 
and  kissing  it,  her  face  all  aglow  with  delight 
and  gratitude.  "  It  is  lovely  !  and  I  shall  not 
care  at  all  for  the  fashion  or  for  a  little  yel 
lowness,  which  will  make  the  lace  look  all  the 
richer." 

"Then  put  it  on,  my  dear,"  Mrs.  Baird 
said,  smilingly  ;  "  and  you  need  not  feel  over 
burdened  with  gratitude  for  so  small  a  favor.'r 


294  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

It  proved  not  a  bad  fit,  and  both  thought 
"would  do  extremely  well  without  alteration. 

"Now  if  you  only  had  a  decent  pair  of 
shoes,"  remarked  Mrs.  Baird  reflectively ; 
"  but  those  I'm  afraid  I  can't  supply,  for  any 
of  mine  would  be  a  mile  too  large  for  that 
pretty  little  foot  of  yours." 

"  Ah  !  which  would  you  advise,  dear  lady, 
bare  feet  or  these  ?"  Juanita  asked,  with  a 
rueful  laugh  and  a  downward  glance  at  her 
^worn  and  soiled  moccasins. 

"  Moccasins  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Baird, 
struck  by  a  sudden  thought.  "  Tou've  been 
so  long  among  the  Injuns,  have  you  learned 
to  make  them,  and  could  you  make  yourself  a 
pair  if  you  had  the  materials  ?" 

' '  Yes,  indeed  !' '  was  the  eager  rejoinder, 
*'  for  myself  and  Rupert  too." 

"Then  you  shall  have  them,"  said  the 
good  woman,  beginning  to  rummage  again 
among  her  stores.  "  I  have  a  nice  soft 
doeskin  that  will  be  just  the  thing.  Ah,  here  it 
is  !"  pulling  it  down  from  a  high  closet  shelf  ; 
"  and  I  have  some  colored  silks  you  can  have 
for  embroidering  with  if  you  like." 

"  Thank  you,  oh  a  thousand  thanks  !" 
Juanita  said,  ' '  but  the  skin  is  all  I  want  ;  I 
prefer  the  moccasins  plain  for  this  occasion, 


MILDEED  AT  HOME.  295 

especially  as  I  can  make  them  up  so  much 
more  quickly.  But  may  I  not  first  help  you 
with  your  work  ?  I  can  wash  dishes,  and 
sweep,  and  dust,  and  make  beds." 

"  No,  no,  my  dear  !"  Mrs.  Baird  said,  in 
her  bright,  cheery  way  ;  "  you  shall  do  noth 
ing  of  the  kind.  It  is  very  kind  and  thought 
ful — your  offering  to  do  it — but  I  really  don't 
need  help,  and  you  must  sit  right  down  to 
those  moccasins.  If  you  like  to  sit  in  the 
Mtchen  while  I'm  busy  there,  I'll  be  very 
glad  of  your  company." 

Before  sunset  Juanita's  bridal  attire  was 
quite  ready,  and  she  exhibited  it  to  Rupert's 
admiring  eyes  with  perhaps  as  much  pride 
and  satisfaction  as  a  city  belle  might  have 
taken  in  her  silks  and  satins. 

11  Mrs.  Baird   says  the   dress   is   old-fash- 

«/ 

ioned  and  not  a  good  color — "  began  Juan- 
ita. 

"  But  what  difference  does  that  make,  my 
sweet  ?"  interrupted  Rupert  ;  "  who  of  us 
will  know  the  difference  ?  And  I  am  sure  you 
will  look  very  lovely,  at  least  in  the  bride 
groom's  eyes,  and  in  fact  will  be  better 
dressed  than  he,"  he  added  gayly.  "  I  hope 
you  won't  be  ashamed  of  him." 

"  Never,  never  !  but  proud,  very  proud  !" 


296  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

she  cried,  throwing  an  arm  about  his  neck  and 
laying  her  head  on  his  breast. 

"Not  prouder  than  I  of  my  bride,"  he 
said  softly,  caressing  her  tenderly. 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  call  to  sup 
per,  and  scarcely  had  the  meal  begun  when  a 
horseman  rode  up  to  the  gate,  dismounted, 
fastened  his  horse  as  if  quite  at  home,  then 
came  hurrying  up  the  path  toward  the  open 
door. 

There  was  a  simultaneous  exclamation  from 
several  voices,  "  Why,  there's  Mr.  Clark,"  and 
the  whole  family  rose  to  greet  him  with  a 
hearty  handshake  and  words  of  welcome. 

Then  Rupert  and  Juanita  were  introduced, 
another  plate  was  added  to  the  table,  a  chair 
set  up  for  the  new  arrival,  and  he  warmly  in 
vited  to  share  their  meal. 

He  was  not  slow  to  accept  the  invitation^ 
and  did  ample  justice  to  the  viands,  praising 
them  without  stint  as  he  ate. 

"  You're  the  best  cook  in  the  county,  by 
all  odds,  Mrs.  Baird  ;  but  the  Ohio  ladies  are 
very  apt  to  understand  the  business  ;  I  don't 
believe  there's  a  State  in  the  Union  can  beat 
Ohio  at  that." 

"  I  agree  with  you  there,  sir,"  remarked 
Rupert.  ' '  But  I  have  observed  that  a  man  is 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  297 

very  apt  to  think  nobody  else's  cooking  quite 
equal  to  that  of  his  own  mother — a  fact  partly 
to  be  accounted  for  by  the  other,  that  chil 
dren's  appetites  are  usually  keen  and  their 
digestion  good.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  truth 
in  the  old  saying  that  hunger  is  the  best  sauce." 

"  Was  your  mother  a  native  of  Ohio,  Mr. 
Keith  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Baird,  with  a  look  of  in 
terest. 

"  Yes,  madam,  my  father  also  ;  all  their 
children  were  born  there  too,  so  that  we  are 
a  family  of  Buckeyes,"  he  concluded,  with 
sportive  look  and  tone. 

"  I  thought  so  !"  she  exclaimed  emphati 
cally  ;  "  the  first  hour  you  were  in  the  house  I 
said  to  myself,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  were 
from  my  own  State  of  Ohio." 

"  But  I  thought  I  heard  you  say  you  came 
from  Indiana,  Mr.  Keith,"  spoke  up  Ralph- 

"  So  I  did,"  returned  Rupert,  pleasantly  ; 
"  we  removed  to  that  State  some  years  ago." 

"  Fine  States  both,"  remarked  Mr.  Clark. 
"I've  lived  in  both,  and  ought  to  know.  Now 
confess,  Mrs.  Baird,  that  you  are  wondering 
what  brought  me  here  to-day." 

"  To  be  ready  for  preaching  to-morrow,  1 
presume,"  she  answered  dryly  ;  "  but  why 
should  I  be  wondering  more  than  the  rest  ?' ' 


298  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  Oh,  woman's  curiosity,  you  know,  if 
you'll  excuse  the  jest  ;  for  I  really  don't  be 
lieve  you'  re  one  bit  more  curious  about  it  than 
anybody  eke  here.  Well,  1  had  a  funeral  to 
attend  this  morning  some  six  or  seven  miles 
from  this,  and  then  two  or  three  sick  folks  to 
visit  a  little  nearer  here,  and  1  thought  it 
wouldn't  be  worth  while  to  go  back  home 
before  Monday.  You  see,  I  always  feel  sure 
of  a  welcome  at  Baird's  Ranch." 

"  That's  right  ;  you  need  never  have  the 
least  doubt  of  it,"  said  his  host.  "  And  we 
are  particularly  glad  to  see  you  this  time,  be 
cause  there's  a  job  waiting  for  you  here." 

"Indeed!"  cried  the  minister,  elevating 
his  eyebrows  in  surprise  ;  "  and  what  may  it 
be  ?  Has  one  of  these  fine  boys  of  yours 
selected  a  wife,  and  is  he  wanting  me  to  tie 
the  knot  ?' ' 

"  Ah,  your  guess  is  not  very  wide  of  the 
mark,"  laughed  Mr.  Baird,  "though  the 
wedding  will  not  be  exactly  in  the  family." 

"  There,  father,  that  will  do  for  the 
present,"  remarked  his  wife,  perceiving  that 
Juanita  was  blushing  in  a  slightly  embarrassed 
way  ;  "  we  have  the  whole  evening  before  us, 
and  it  won't  take  long  to  make  all  the  neces 
sary  arrangements." 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  299 

"  You  have  not  been  long  in  this  part  of 
the  country  I  presume,  sir  ?"  Mr.  Clark  said, 
inquiringly,  addressing  Rupert. 

"I  arrived  only  yesterday,  sir,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Direct  from  Indiana  ?" 

' '  No,  sir,  direct  from  the  Apache  coun 
try,  where  I  have  been  a  prisoner  for  three 
years. " 

"  Is  it  possible,  sir  !  You  must  have  had 
a  dreadful  experience." 

And  then  questions  and  answers  followed 
in  rapid  succession,  Mr.  Clark  almost  forget 
ting  to  eat  in  the  intense  interest  he  felt  in  the 
•story  Rupert  and  Juanita  had  to  tell ;  for 
learning  from  something  said  by  one  of  the 
family  that  she  had  shared  Rupert's  captivity, 
he  catechised  her  also  quite  closely. 

He  was  captivated  by  her  beauty  and  her 
modest,  sensible  replies,  and  being  presently 
able  to  make  a  shrewd  conjecture  as  to  who 
were  to  claim  his  services  that  evening, 
thought  Rupert  a  very  fortunate  man. 


Chapter 


"  I  bless  thee  for  the  noble  heart, 

The  tender  and  the  true, 
Where  mine  hath  found  the  happiest  rest 
That  e'er  fond  woman's  knew." 

MRS.  HEMANS. 

MRS.  BAIRD  made  short  work  of  clearing1 
away  the  remains  of  the  supper  and  setting 
everything  to  rights.  Then  taking  two  of  her 
sons  with  her,  she  repaired  to  the  garden. 

All  three  presently  returned  laden  with 
flowers,  with  which  they  proceeded  to  orna 
ment  the  parlor,  after  setting  aside  some  of  the 
fairest  and  most  fragrant  for  the  adornment  of 
the  bride. 

"What  next,  mother?"  asked  Tom. 
"  You  are  hardly  thinking  of  having  a  wed 
ding  in  the  house  without  refreshments,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"  No  ;  I've  plenty  of  cake  baked  :  three 
kinds  —  bride,  pound,  and  sponge  cakes.  Kow 
you  boys  go  to  the  garden  and  gather  all  the 
finest  fruits  you  can  find,  while  I  help  the 
bride  to  dress.  " 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  301 

"  Dress  ?"  laughed  Tom  ;  "  what  has  she 
to  dress  in  ?  Will  she  put  on  her  Indian  tog 
gery  again  ?" 

"  You'll  see  when  the  time  comes,"  said 
his  mother.  "  Now  off  with  you,  and  show 
how  well  you  can  do  your  part." 

Mr.  Baird  had  repaired  to  the  front  porch 
with  his  guests,  and  an  animated  conversation 
was  going  on  there,  Mr.  Clark  and  Rupert 
being  the  chief  speakers,  when  the  good  lady 
of  the  house  appeared  among  them  with  the 
announcement  that  it  was  time  for  every  one 
of  them  to  be  dressing  for  the  wedding. 

"You  know  your  room,  Mr.  Clark.  I've 
had  your  saddlebags  carried  there,  and  you'll 
find  everything  necessary  for  making  your 
toilet.  Mr.  Baird,  will  you  please  to  attend 
to  Mr.  Keith  ?  I  shall  take  care  of  the 
bride."  And  linking  Juanita's  arm  inhere 
she  led  her  into  the  house  and  to  a  large,  airy 
bedroom  that,  with  its  white  draped  windows, 
toilet-table,  and  bed,  looked  very  suitable  for 
a  bridal  chamber. 

The  white  dress,  the  new  moccasins,  and 
a  profusion  of  loveliest  flowers  were  there. 

Juanita  sent  a  swift  glance  about  the  room, 
taking  in  all  these  details  and  more  (the  room 
seemed  pervaded  by  a  simple  air  of  elegance, 


302  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

and  its  atmosphere  was  redolent  of  the  sweet 
breath  of  the  flowers) ;  then  turning  to  her 
kind  hostess,  threw  her  arms  round  her  neck, 
and  with  quivering  lips  and  eyes  full  of  tears 
said,  "  Oh,  how  good,  how  good  you  are  to  a 
poor  wayfarer,  dear  lady  !" 

"  It's  very  little  I'm  doing,  dear  child," 
said  Mrs.  Baird,  returning  the  embrace. 
"  I'm  afraid  it  must  seem  but  a  forlorn  kind 
of  wedding  to  you  ;  and  yet  I  think  you 
should  be  a  happy  bride,  for  sure  I  am  that 
if  you  are  not  a  happy  wife  it  will  not  be  the 
fault  of  the  man  you  are  marrying." 

"No,"  cried  Juanita,  smiles  chasing 
away  the  tears,  "  there  cannot  be  another  in 
all  the  world  like  my  Eupert." 

"  1  must  own  that  I  have  taken  a  great 
fancy  to  him,"  Mrs.  Baird  said,  smiling  and 
stroking  Juanita' s  hair  caressingly.  "  Now, 
dear,  let  me  help  you  to  dress.  I  want  the 
pleasure  of  arranging  this  beautiful  hair  and 
trimming  it  with  flowers.  They  are  the  most 
suitable  ornament  for  a  bride,  and  fortunately 
we  have  an  abundant  supply." 

"  Yes,  I  prefer  them  to  jewels,"  said 
Juanita. 

"  My  dear,  you  look  lovely  !"  was  the 
delighted  exclamation  of  the  good  lady  when. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  302 

her  labors  were  completed.  "  Simple  and 
old-fashioned  as  the  dress  is,  it  becomes  you 
wonderfully.  I  never  saw  a  bride  in  the 
richest  white  silk  or  satin  look  half  so  beauti 
ful  as  you  do  in  it. " 

"  Ah,  you  flatter  me,  my  kind  friend  !" 
Juanita  said,  with  a  blush  that  enhanced  her 
charms. 

"  Now  sit  down  for  a  few  minutes  while  I 
trim  the  room  with  the  rest  of  these  roses, 
lilies,  and  orange  blossoms, ' '  said  her  hostess, 
"  and  then  I'll  go  and  send  Mr.  Keith  to  stay 
with  you  till  I  call  you  to  the  parlor. " 

"  Ah,  may  I  not  help  ?  I  would  rather,'* 
Juanita  said,  half  imploringly.  "  Dear  lady, 
you  must  be  quite  exhausted  with  the  many 
labors  of  the  day. ' ' 

"  No,  no,  not  at  all,"  laughed  Mrs.  Baird 
gayly  ;  "  as  my  husband  often  says,  I  have  a 
wonderful  capacity  for  work.  I  really  do  be 
lieve  it  was  what  I  was  made  for." 

"  You  are  never  ill  ?" 

"  No,  never  ;  and  what  a  cause  for  thank 
fulness  !  What  earthly  blessing  greater  than 
good  health  ?" 

A  little  later  Rupert  came  in  to  find 
Juanita  alone,  seated  before  the  window,  gaz 
ing  out  upon  a  beautiful  landscape  of  prairie 


304  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

and  forest,  with  richly  wooded  hills  in  the  dis 
tance. 

He  stepped  lightly  across  the  floor,  but  her 
quick  ear  caught  the  sound  of  his  footfalls. 
She  turned,  rose  hastily,  and  threw  herself 
into  his  outstretched  arms. 

"  My  beautiful !  iny  beautiful !"  he  said, 
softly,  holding  her  close  with  tenderest 
caresses. 

"  Ah,  my  love,  my  love,  I  would  I  were 
ten  times  more  beautiful  for  your  dear  sake," 
she  responded,  gazing  into  his  face  with  eyes 
full  of  happy  tears. 

"That  would  be  quite  impossible,"  he 
said,  holding  her  off  a  little,  the  better  to  view 
her  charms,  then  drawing  her  close  again  to 
repeat  his  caresses. 

So  happy  in  each  other  were  they  that  the 
time  did  not  seem  long  till  they  were  sum 
moned  to  the  parlor,  where  the  whole  Baird 
family  and  the  minister  were  in  waiting. 

It  was  a  short,  simple,  yet  impressive 
ceremony,  and  the  spectators,  though  few  in 
number,  were  very  hearty  and  sincere  in  their 
congratulations  at  its  close.  Rupert  felt  that 
all  he  needed  to  complete  his  happiness  was 
the  presence  of  his  parents,  brothers,  and 
sisters — all,  alas,  so  far  away. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  305 

He  was  very  eager  to  reach  home,  but  so 
weary  were  both  he  and  Juanita  that  he  had 
already  decided  to  accept  the  kind  invitation 
of  these  new-found  friends  to  stay  some  weeks 
with  them.  Also  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
they  should  make  some  preparation,  in  the 
matter  of  dress,  for  a  decent  appearance  in 
civilized  society. 

The  table  spread  by  Mrs.  Baird  and  her 
sons  with  the  simple  wedding  feast  of  cake  and 
fruits,  garnished  with  a  profusion  of  beauti 
ful,  fragrant  flowers,  presented  a  most  attrac 
tive  appearance  ;  nor  were  its  delicacies  found 
less  agreeable  to  the  palate  than  satisfying  to- 
the  eye. 

There  was  no  revel,  no  intoxicating  drink, 
though  a  great  abundance  of  delicious  lem 
onade,  nor  was  the  feasting  prolonged  to  ex 
cess  ;  there  was  in  fact  more  talk  than  eating 
and  drinking,  and  at  a  primitively  early  hour 
all  had  retired,  each  to  his  own  room. 

' '  At  last,  love,  we  know  beyond  a  question 
that  we  are  truly  husband  and  wife,"  Rupert 
said,  holding  Juanita  to  his  heart  with  ten- 
derest  caresses.  "  Does  the  certainty  add  to 
your  happiness,  as  it  does  to  mine  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured,  softly  ;  "  oh,  I  am 
happier  than  ever  before  in  all  my  life  1" 


306  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  Ah,  it  makes  my  heart  glad  to  hear  it ! 
How  proud  I  shall  be  to  show  my  little  wife 
to  the  dear  ones  at  home.  1  hope  to  have  an 
opportunity  on  Monday  to  send  them  a  few 
lines  to  tell  that  I  am  yet  alive  and  hope  to 
te  with  them  in  a  few  weeks." 

He  availed  himself  of  that  opportunity, 
writing  to  Dr.  Landreth  to  break  the  news  to 
his  parents,  but  the  letter  never  reached  its 
destination.  Hence  the  intense  surprise  of  his 
relatives  when  he  arrived  among  them. 

The  remainder  of  the  journey  was  per 
formed  in  comparative  comfort.  Rupert 
"bought  a  pair  of  stout  mules  and  a  roomy 
wagon,  which  he  and  the  hospitable  Bairds 
stocked  with  everything  necessary  for  a 
journey  of  several  hundred  miles  through  a 
sparsely  settled  country. 

In  this  the  young  couple  travelled  to  New 
Orleans,  stopping  at  night  at  some  village, 
farmhouse,  or  ranch,  when  any  such  shelter 
was  near,  at  other  times  unharnessing  and 
tethering  their  mules  and  sleeping  in  their 
wagon. 

The  parting  with  the  Bairds  was  a  sorrow 
ful  one  on  both  sides,  for  they  had  becomq 
sincerely  attached  during  the  weeks  spent  to 
gether,  and  it  was  very  unlikely  they  would 


MILDEED  AT  HOME.  30? 

ever  meet  again  on  earth.  Their  only  con 
solation  was  in  the  strong  hope  and  expecta 
tion  of  a  final  reunion  in  another  and  better 
world. 

Rupert  and  Juanita  set  out  upon  this  stage 
of  their  long  journey  very  decently  attired  in> 
garments  suitable  for  the  exigencies  of  that 
kind  of  travel,  and  carrying  some  changes 
with  them. 

In  New  Orleans  they  replenished  their 
wardrobes,  so  that  they  presented  a  decidedly 
fashionable  and  stylish  appearance  ;  sold  the- 
wagon  and  mules,  and  took  passage  on  a  Mis 
sissippi  steamer  bound  for  St.  Louis. 

The  trip  up  the  river  seemed  really  restful 
after  the  far  more  toilsome  mode  of  travel 
they  had  practised  for  so  long.  They  made? 
some  pleasant  acquaintances  too,  and  altogether 
greatly  enjoyed  the  voyage,  with  its  return  ta 
the  usages  of  civilized  life. 

They  stayed  but  a  few  hours  in  St.  Louis, 
then  hurried  on  to  Pleasant  Plains  by  the 
nearest  and  most  rapid  route,  for  Rupert  was 
in  a  fever  of  impatience  to  reach  home  and 
the  dear  ones  from  whom  he  had  been  so  long 
and  sadly  parted. 

Such  was  the  story  told  to  the  assembled 
family  on  the  morning  after  their  arrival,. 


308  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

and  of  course  it  was  listened  to  with  absorbing 
and  often  painful  interest,  and  followed  up  by 
many  questions,  now  from  one  and  now  from 
another. 

It  was  Annis  who  asked,  "  What  became 
of  your  diamond,  Ru  ?' ' 

"  Did  I  say  positively  that  it  was  a 
diamond  ?"  he  asked,  in  sportive  tone. 

"  No,  I  believe  not  ;  but  what  did  you  da 
with  it  ?" 

"  Sold  it,  little  sister  ;  sold  it  for  five 
-thousand  dollars." 

There  was  an  exclamation  of  delight  from 
all  present  except  Juanita,  to  whom  the  fact 
was  no  news. 

"  Why,  my  good  brother,  you  seem  to 
have  made  quite  a  speculation  out  of  your 
misfortune  in  being  captured  and  held  pris 
oner  so  long,"  laughed  Dr.  Landreth. 

"  Yes,"  Rupert  said,  with  an  ardent  look 
of  love  directed  to  his  bride.  "  I  found  a 
treasure  there  that  1  could  have  found  no 
where  else,  therefore  do  not  regret  all  1 
have  suffered.  Though  I  would  the  suffering 
had  been  mine  alone,"  he  added,  with  a  tender 
glance  at  his  mother's  worn  face  and  a  per 
ceptible  tremble  in  his  manly  tones. 

"Never  mind,  my   dear  boy,"   she  saidj 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  309 

laying  her  hand  affectionately  upon  his  arm 
and  gazing  with  all  a  mother's  love  and  pride 
into  his  handsome  face  ;  ' '  none  of  us  need 
care  for  them  now  that  they  are  all  over  and 
we  have  you  safe  among  us  once  more." 

"  In  fine,  vigorous  health  too,  I  should  say, 
from  your  appearance,"  added  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,  Charlie,  your  prescription  has 
worked  wonders,"  Rupert  replied,  with  a 
happy  laugh.  "  I  never  felt  better  in  my 
life." 

"  And  you  are  quite  a  rich  man,"  the 
doctor  went  on  gayly.  "  Your  business  here 
has  thrived  and  increased  under  my  fostering 
care,  so  that  there  are  a  few  thousands  in 
bank  to  add  to  those  you  have  brought  with 
you  ;  and  besides,  the  fine  business  ready  for 
you  to  step  into  again  this  very  day  if  you 
like." 

"  Charlie,  how  can  I  thank  you  !"  Rupert 
exclaimed  with  emotion,  grasping  the  doctor's 
hand  with  brotherly  warmth. 

"No  thanks  needed,  Ru,"  returned  the 
doctor,  laconically.  "  Don,  my  boy,"  wheel 
ing  round  upon  him,  "  1  don't  believe  one  of 
us  has  asked  what  success  in  the  search  for 
gold  you  have  to  tell  of." 

"  No,"  said  the  mother ;  "  we  were  so  glad 


310  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

to  get  sight  of  his  face  that  we  never  thought 
of  the  gold." 

Don  gave  her  a  loving  smile.  "  And  I," 
he  said,  "have  been  so  taken  up  with  the 
happiness  of  being  with  you  all  again,  and  the 
return  of  my  brother,  '  who  was  dead  and  i& 
alive  again,  was  lost  and  is  found,'  that  I  have 
not  thought  of  it  myself.  1  have  been 
moderately  successful,  so  that  I  have  enough 
to  give  me  a  fair  start  in  business." 

"I'm  very  glad,  Don,"  said  Rupert. 
*'  And  if  you  shouldn't  have  quite  enough, 
you  won't  be  too  proud  to  take  a  little  help 
from  your  older  brother,  will  you  ?' ' 

"  Or  your  brother-in-law  ?"  supplemented 
the  doctor. 

"  Or  your  father  ?"  Mr.  Keith  added,  with 
an  affectionate  look  and  smile.  "  1  am 
abundantly  able,  and  have,  perhaps,  the  best 
right." 

Don's  face  beamed  with  happiness. 
"  Thank  you  all,"  he  said. 

"  No,  I  shouldn't  be  too  proud  to  accept 
help  from  any  of  you,  father  especially  ;  but 
I  hope  not  to  need  it." 

"  But,  Rupert,"  said  Wallace,  inquiringly, 
"  1  suppose  you  had  to  use  a  part  of  your  five 
thousand  for  travelling  expenses  ?" 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  311 

"No,  you  needn't  suppose  any  such, 
thing,  my  good  brother,"  replied  Rupert, 
with  a  good-humored  laugh  ;  "  the  gold  I 
told  you  Juanita  and  1  picked  up  was  more 
than  sufficient  for  that  and  all  other  expendi 
tures — for  clothing  and  so  forth — in  fact  we 
still  have  a  few  hundreds  of  it  left. ' ' 

"  Fortunate  creatures  that  you  are  !"  said 
Zillah.  "  And  yet  I  don't  think  ten  times 
what  you  have  would  pay  for  that  long  cap 
tivity  among  the  Indians." 

"  E"o,"  said  Rupert,  "  I  would  not  volun 
tarily  endure  it  again  for  that,  or  twice  that ; 
though  now  that  it  is  over  1  am  not  sorry  to 
have  had  the  experience.  Are  you  for  your 
share  of  it,  love  ?"  to  Juanita,  sitting  by  his 
side. 

' '  Ah,  my  husband, ' '  lifting  to  him  eyes 
beaming  with  love  and  happiness,  "  I  can 
never,  never  regret  anything  that  brought  us 
together  !" 

"  What  beautifully  correct  English  Juanita 
speaks,"  remarked  Mildred,  admiringly. 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  said  Rupert,  "and 
take  all  the  credit  to  myself,  since  I  have 
been  her  only  teacher  ;  she  could  not  speak  a 
word  of  it  when  we  first  met. ' ' 

"  He  first  stole  my  heart,"  said  Juanita, 


312  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

with  a  low,  musical  laugh,  "  and  then  it  was 
not  so  difficult  to  make  me  understand  and 
speak  his  language." 

"  No,"  said  Kupert  ;  "if  there  was  any 
theft  it  was  on  your  side  ;  you  robbed  me  of 
my  heart  with  the  first  glance  of  your  lovely 
eyes,  so  that  when  I  got  possession  of  yours 
it  was  only  a  fair  exchange,  which,  according 
to  the  proverb,  is  no  robbery. ' ' 

Juanita  looked  at  him  with  pretended  re 
proach  in  her  beautiful  eyes.  "  He  always 
gets  the  better  of  me  when  we  quarrel  like 
this  ;  he  always  will  have  the  last  word. ' ' 

"Ah,  but  you  shouldn't  let  him,"  Zillah 
said,  with  a  merry  look  at  her  husband. 
' '  Wallace  knows  better  than  to  expect  it 
always.  Don't  you,  dear  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  of  course,"  laughed  Wallace  ; 
"  but  for  all  that  I'm  not  apt  to  stop  till  I've 
freed  my  mind  ;  and  sometimes  my  wife  is 
wise  enough  not  to  answer  back  unless  with 
soft  words  or  a  merry  jest  that  conquers  my 
inclination  to  be  disagreeable." 

"She's  a  very  nice,  wise  little  woman," 
remarked  the  doctor,  "  yet,  I  think,  excelled 
to  some  extent  by  her  elder  sister, "  glancing 
at  Mildred  as  he  spoke. 

"  Probably  the  possessive  pronoun  has  not. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  313 

a  little  to  do  with  that    opinion,   Charlie," 
Mildred  said,  with  a  happy  smile. 

"  Rupert/'  said  Don,  "  did  you  never  lose 
your  way  while  crossing  those  almost  bound 
less  Texas  prairies  ?" 

"Once  we  did,"  replied  Rupert,  "but 
finding  a  compass  after  some  little  search  we 
were  able  to  go  on  in  the  right  direction.' ' 

"  A  compass  ?"  cried  Annis  ;  "  what  sort  of 
compass  could  be  found  out  there  ?" 

"  It  is  a  little  plant  which  grows  there,  can 
always  be  found,  and  under  all  circumstances, 
in  all  kinds  of  weather — sunshine,  rain,  or 
frost — invariably  turns  its  leaves  and  flowers  to 
the  north.  Mr.  Baird  pointed  it  out  to  me,  and 
told  me  this  about  it  before  we  left  his  ranch. " 

"  What  a  wonderful  provision  of  nature  !" 
exclaimed  Wallace. 

"  How  kindly  God  provides  for  all  the 
needs  of  His  creatures, ' '  said  Mrs.  Keith. 

Silence  fell  upon  them  for  a  moment.  It 
was  broken  by  an  exclamation  from  Juanita. 

1 '  What  a  happy  family,  my  Rupert  !  How 
many  brothers  and  sisters,  and  all  so  kind  and 
loving  to  each  other." 

"  And  these  are  not  all,  my  Juanita,"  he 
said.  "  Ah,  if  only  Ada  and  Cyril  were 
here  !"  turning  to  his  mother  as  he  spoke. 


314  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

11  Your  father  has  already  written  for 
Cyril  to  come  home  to  see  his  long-lost 
brothers,"  she  said,  "  but  Ada  we  can  hardly 
hope  to  see  for  a  year  or  two  yet.' ' 

"  Is  she  happy  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Very  happy  in  her  chosen  work,  as  well 
as  in  her  husband  and  two  sweet  children." 

"  Dear  girl,"  he  murmured,  "  I  trust  she 
will  have  many  stars  in  her  crown  of  rejoic 
ing.  You  too,  mother.  What  a  good  work 
you  have  done  in  training  her  for  hers." 

"To  God  be  all  the  glory,"  she  said; 
' '  without  His  blessing  all  my  teachings  would 
have  availed  nothing.  And  greatly  as  I  miss- 
my  dear  daughter,  I  feel  that  He  has  highly 
honored  me  in  making  me  the  mother  of  a 
devoted  missionary  of  the  cross. 

"  Ah,  Rupert,  you  have  had  an  oppor 
tunity  to  do  a  like  work  for  the  Master  while 
an  involuntary  dweller  among  a  heathen  peo 
ple." 

She  looked  at  him  inquiringly  as  she 
spoke. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  and  I  made  some  effort 
to  improve  it.  I  told  the  old,  old  story  to  all 
whom  1  could  get  to  listen,  and  sometimes  I 
thought  their  hearts  were  touched.  I  trust 
the  seed  sown  may  some  day  spring  up  and 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  Si  5 

bring  forth  fruit,  though  I  shall  know  nothing 
of  it  till  we  meet  before  the  great  white  throne. 

"  There  was  one — an  old  man,  who  was  ill 
a  long  while,  dying  of  consumption — of  whom 
I  have  strong  hope. 

"  1  did  what  I  could  to  relieve  his  physical 
suffering,  and  he  was  very  grateful.  That 
made  him  the  more  willing  to  listen  to  my 
talk  of  the  evil  of  sin,  the  danger  of  eternal 
death,  and  God's  appointed  way  of  salvation. 

"  A.t  first  he  heard  me  with  apparently 
perfect  indifference,  but  after  some  time  he 
"became  deeply  convicted  of  sin,  and  at  length, 
as  I  had  reason  to  believe,  sincerely  converted. 

"  l  Was  it  for  me  ?  for  me  ?  Did  He  die  to 
•save  me  f  '  he  asked  again  and  again,  the  tears 
falling  fast  from  his  aged  eyes.  '  And  His 
blood  cleanses  from  all  sin,  all  sin  f '  he  re 
peated  over  and  over  again.  Then  hoi  ding  up 
his  bunds,  {  These  hands  are  red — red  with  the 
blood  of  my  foes, '  he  said.  '  I  have  been  on 
the  war-path  many,  many  times  ;  I  have  taken 
very  many  scalps  ;  I  have  slain  men,  women, 
and  little  children.  Can  His  blood  wash  away 
such  stains  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,'  I  said.  '  Let  me  read  you  the 
very  words  from  God's  own  Book  ; '  and  I  did 
fio,  for  I  had  my  Bible  in  my  hand. 


316  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

11  '  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  His  Son 
cleanseth  us  from  all  sin.  And  He  is  mighty 
to  save, '  I  added  ;  then  read  again  from  the 
Book, 

"  '  He  is  able  also  to  save  them  to  the 
uttermost  that  come  unto  God  by  Him,  seeing 
He  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  for  them. ' 

"  Then  I  read  again  from  the  Book,  '  It  is 
Christ  that  died,  yea,  rather  that  is  risen 
again,  who  is  ever  at  the  right  hand  of  Godr 
who  also  maketh  intercession  for  us,'  and 
spoke  more  fully  than  I  had  before  of  the 
resurrection,  and  of  Christ  as  our  Advocate 
with  the  Father,  the  one  Mediator  between 
God  and  man.  | 

"  He  listened  eagerly,  hanging  upon  my 
words  as  if  he  felt  that  the  life  of  his  soul 
depended  upon  his  full  understanding  of 
them. 

"  And  I  think  he  did  fully  comprehend  at 
last,  for  such  light  and  peace  came  into  his 
face  as  almost  transfigured  it  ;  one  could  not 
have  believed  it  the  face  of  a  savage.  And 
the  expression  never  changed  during  the  few 
hours  that  he  lived. 

"  I  stayed  with  him  to  the  end,  and  it  was 
perfectly  calm  and  peaceful. ' ' 

Rupert    paused,  overcome     by    emotion.. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  317 

Juanita  crept  closer  to  him  and  put  her  hand 
in  his,  while  her  eyes  sought  his  face  with  a 
look  of  sympathy  and  love. 

He  pressed  the  little  hand  fondly,  giving 
her  a  reassuring  smile.  Then  addressing  his 
mother  again,  "  1  shall  always  feel,"  he  said, 
1 '  that  the  salvation  of  that  one  soul  more  than 
repays  all  I  have  suffered  in  consequence  of 
my  capture  by  the  Indians." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  it  is  worth  more  than 
the  sufferings  we  have  all  endured  in  conse 
quence  of  that,  to  us,  dreadful  event.  For 
they  were  but  temporary,  and  that  soul  will 
live  forever." 


Chapter 


"  Happy  in  this,  she  is  not  yet  so  old 
But  she  may  learn  ;  happier  than  this, 
She  is  not  bred  so  dull  bat  she  can  learn  ; 
Happiest  of  all  is  that  her  gentle  spirit 
Commits  itself  to  yours  to  he  directed, 
As  from  her  lord,  her  governor,  her  king." 

SHAKESPEARE, 

11  WHAT  do  you  think  of  the  new  member 
of  the  family,  Cousin  Flora  ?"  asked  Dr. 
Landreth. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  day  succeeding 
the  arrival  of  Don,  and  Rupert  and  his  wife. 
Dr.  Landreth  had  a  call  to  the  country,  and 
had  invited  Flora  to  drive  with  him. 

They  had  left  the  town  behind,  and  were 
bowling  rapidly  along  a  smooth,  level  road 
running  through  woods  gorgeous  in  their 
autumn  robes  of  crimson  and  gold,  russet, 
green,  and  brown. 

Flora  had  been  among  the  listeners  to 
Rupert's  story  of  his  and  Juanita's  captivity 
and  subsequent  wanderings,  and  had,  as  the 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  319 

doctor  noticed  at  the  time,  furtively  watched 
Juanita  very  closely. 

"  I  admire  her,  of  course,"  was  the  reply. 

"  But  why  of  course  ?"  he  asked. 

"  You  all  do  ;  no  one  could  help  it.  She 
is  very  dark,  but  extremely  handsome  in  spite 
of  that." 

Rupert  was  at  that  very  time  asking  his 
mother  that  same  question,  having  gone  to  her 
room  and  found  her  there  alone. 

"  I  think  her  sweet  and  beautiful  in  ap 
pearance  and  manners,"  Mrs.  Keith  answered, 
smiling  up  at  her  tall  son  as  he  stood  at  her 
side,  and  making  room  for  him  on  the  couch 
where  she  sat.  "  There  has  not  been  time 
for  me  to  form  any  further  judgment,' '  she 
continued  as  he  accepted  her  invitation,  taking 
her  hand  fondly  into  his,  "  but  I  assure  you  I 
am  disposed  to  the  very  most  favorable 
opinion,  both  because  you  love  her  and  of  all 
she  has  done  for  you.  Perhaps  but  for  her 
faithful  nursing  of  my  wounded  boy  I  should 
never  have  seen  his  dear  face  again." 

Her  voice  trembled  with  emotion  as  she 
spoke  the  last  words. 

"  Very  likely  not,  dear  mother,"  Rupert 
said,  supporting  her  with  his  arm.  "  But 
setting  aside  the  gratitude,  which  is  certainly 


320  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

her  due,  from  me  at  least,  I  am  sure  you  will 
soon  learn  to  love  her  for  her  many  very 
lovable  qualities." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,  my  son.  And  it  re 
joices  my  heart  to  see  how  great  is  your 
mutual  love.  I  trust  it  may  but  increase  with 
years,  as  has  your  father's  and  mine." 

"  I  hope  so  indeed,  mother.  It  has  always 
been  very  evident  to  me  that  you  and  my 
father  loved  each  other  dearly.  I  do  not  re 
member  ever  to  have  heard  either  one  address 
an  unkind  word  to  the  other. " 

"No,"  she  said  ;  "your  father  has  been 
the  best  of  husbands  to  me  always." 

Then  after  a  little  pause,  "  Has  your  wife 
any  education,  Rupert  ?" 

"Not  much  besides  what  I  have  contrived 
to  give  her  myself  in  the  three  years  we  have 
been  together,"  he  said.  "  But  I  have  really 
succeeded  in  giving  her  a  good  deal  of  general 
information  orally,  and  have  taught  her  to 
read  English,  using  my  Bible  as  a  text-book, 
and  to  write,  using  a  pointed  stick  and  the  sand. 

"  I  had  thought  of  placing  her  in  a  board 
ing-school  for  a  time,  but  she  was  so  distressed 
at  the  very  suggestion — declaring  that  it  would 
break  her  heart  to  be  separated  from  me — that 
1  have  quite  given  up  the  idea. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  321 

"  She  is  very  bright,  quick  to  catch  an 
idea,  and  more  than  willing  to  study  under  my 
tuition,  to  please  me,  if  for  no  other  reason. 

"  And  she  has  great  musical  talent.  1 
must  get  her  to  sing  for  you  all  this  evening. 
You  will  be  delighted  with  her  voice  and  her 
execution." 

"  Well,  my  boy,  I  am  inclined  to  think 
she  will  make  you  happy,  so  far  as  a  wife  can. 
She  is  very  graceful  and  ladylike,  and  1  think 
you  will  succeed  in  educating  her  as  far  a» 
necessary  for  her  happiness  and  yours.  I 
suppose  she  knows  little  or  nothing  of  house 
wifely  accomplishments  ;  but  those  too  she  can 
learn,  and  you  will  live  with  us  for  the 
present  at  least,  1  trust,  if  not  permanently, 
and  if  she  will  let  me  I  shall  gladly  teach  her 
all  I  know  of  such  matters." 

"  Dear  mother,  thank  you,"  he  said,  his 
eyes  shining  with  pleasure  ;  "  she  could  not 
have  a  more  competent  or  kinder  instructor, 
and  I  know  she  will  be  glad  to  avail  herself 
of  your  kind  offer,  if  only  for  my  sake. 

"  She  tried  to  learn  as  much  as  possible 
from  good  Mrs.  Baird  while  we  were  there,, 
and  succeeded  well  too,  I  thought,  in  every 
thing  she  attempted." 

On  leaving  his  mother    Rupert  went  in 


322  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

search  of  his  wife.     He  found  her  alone  in 
the  parlor,  hovering  over  the  open  piano. 

"O  Rupert,"  she  cried,  looking  up  almost 
pleadingly  into  his  face,  "  do  you  think  I  may 
try  it  ?  would  any  one  be  displeased  ?' ' 

"  Certainly  you  may  try  it  if  you  wish," 
he  replied,  half  laughing  at  the  absurdity  of 
her  doubt ;  "  there  is  no  danger  of  any  ob 
jection  being  raised  ;  but  can  you  play  on 
it?" 

She  answered  only  with  a  sportive,  de 
lighted  arch  smile,  seated  herself  at  the  in 
strument,  and  dashed  off  into  a  brilliant 
waltz. 

Rupert  was  in  raptures. 
"  Why,  Juanita  !"  he    exclaimed,    as    she 
struck  the  last  notes,  then  turned  to  look  up 
in  his  face  with  dancing  eyes,   "  you  never 
told  me  you  could  play  the  piano. " 

"  No,  senor  ;  you  never  asked  if  I  could." 

The  different  members  of  the  family  had 
<some  flocking  in,  drawn  by  the  music,  and 
wondering  who  the  player  was,  for  the  tune 
was  new  to  them  and  the  touch  different  from 
that  of  any  of  themselves. 

"  Give  us  a  song,  love,"  requested  the 
delighted  young  husband. 

She  complied  at  once,  and  the  effect  upon 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  32£ 

the  small  audience  was  fully  up  to  Rupert'a 
expectation.  She  had  a  magnificent  voice, 
strong,  full,  of  great  compass  and  flexibility, 
sweet  and  clear  as  the  warble  of  a  bird  ;  a 
voice  that  would  have  made  her  fortune  as  a 
prima  donna  ;  nor  was  it  entirely  unculti 
vated. 

How  they  crowded  round  her  and  poured 
out  their  thanks  and  praises,  begging  for 
another  and  still  another  till  the  tea-bell  sum 
moned  them  away  to  their  evening  meal ! 

Juanita's  playing  and  singing  were 
destined  henceforth  to  form  one  of  the 
greatest  enjoyments  of  the  entire  family. 

Cyril  came  home  for  a  short  visit,  and  for 
several  weeks  they  all  (except  the  doctor, 
whose  patients  had  to  be  attended  to)  gave 
themselves  up,  for  the  most  of  the  time,  to  the 
enjoyment  of  each  other's  society.  It  was  so 
delightful  to  be  together  again  after  the  long 
separation  of  Rupert  and  Don  from  the 
others,  that  they  seemed  unable  to  remain 
apart  for  any  length  of  time. 

They  gathered  now  at  one  of  the  three 
houses,  now  at  another.  One  day  the  mother 
was  the  hostess,  then  Mildred,  then  Zillah  ; 
but  at  whichever  dwelling  they  congregated 
all  were  perfectly  at  home,  Juanita  very  soon. 


334  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

as  much  so  as  the  rest,  for  they  all  gave  her  a 
daughter's  and  sister's  place,  calling  her  by 
those  names,  while  the  little  ones  were  taught 
to  say,  "  Aunt  Nita." 

She  was  a  trifle  shy  and  reserved  at  first, 
but  her  timidity  soon  melted  away  under  the 
sunshine  of  love  that  constantly  shone  upon 
her.  She  grew  sweetly  confiding  and  affec 
tionate,  not  to  her  husband  only,  but  to  all  his 
relatives. 

Influenced  by  an  ardent  desire  to  be  and 
do  all  he  could  wish,  she  silently  took  note  of 
all  the  housewifely  ways  of  his  mother  and 
sisters,  determined  to  copy  them  as  nearly  as 
possible  when  she  also  should  become  a  house 
keeper  ;  rather  dreading,  too,  the  coming  of 
the  time  when  she  must  assume  the  duties  of 
that  position,  because  she  felt  herself  hardly 
equal  to  their  full  performance. 

It  was  several  weeks  after  their  arrival  in 
Pleasant  Plains  that  one  day,  finding  himself 
alone  with  her,  Rupert  asked,  "  Juanita,  my 
love,  which  would  you  prefer,  going  to  house 
keeping,  or  just  living  on  here  as  we  have 
been  doing  so  far,  with  my  father  and 
mother?1' 

"  Ah,  Rupert,  would  they  like  to  have  us 
*tay  ?"  she  asked,  with  an  eager  look  up  into 


MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

his  face,  for  lie  was  standing  beside  the  low 
chair  in  which  she  was  seated. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  smiling  down  on  her ; 
"  and  I  see  you  would  like  it  too." 

"  Oh  no,  not  unless  you  please  ;  I  mean 
I  should  prefer  whatever  would  be  most  for 
the  pleasure  and  happiness  of  my  dear  hus 
band." 

"  Thank  you,  love,"  he  said,  bending 
down  to  caress  her  hair  and  cheek  ;  "  then  we 
will  stay  here  at  least  for  the  present,  for  I 
perceive  that  will  be  agreeable  to  all  parties. 
But  whenever  you  weary  of  it,  and  think  you 
would  be  happier  in  a  home  of  your  own,  you 
must  tell  me  so  without  reserve.  Promise  me 
that  you  will." 

"  Yes,  sefior,"  she  returned,  gayly,  "I 
promise  ;  but  the  time  will  never  come  till  1 
have  learned  to  do  all  housewifely  duties  just 
as  your  dear  mother  does." 

Her  words  gave  him  great  pleasure,  and 
she  saw  with  delight  that  they  did.  She 
sprang  up  in  a  pretty,  impulsive  way  she 
had,  threw  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and  gaz 
ing  up  into  his  face  with  eyes  beaming  with 
light  and  love,  "  Oh,  my  dear  husband,"  she 
cried,  "  how  good,  how  kind  you  are  to  me 
always,  always  !" 


326  MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

"  I  should  be  a  brute  if  1  were  anything 
^Ise  to  you,  my  precious  little  darling  !"  he 
.said,  holding  her  close,  with  many  a  fond 
caress. 

Rupert  was  again  devoting  himself  to 
business  with  all  the  old  energy  and  faithful, 
ness. 

Don,  unable  to  decide  what  was  best 
suited  to  his  capacity  and  inclination,  waited 
for  some  sort  of  opening,  and  in  the  mean  time 
resumed  some  of  his  former  studies,  and  spent 
a  good  deal  of  his  leisure  in  the  society  of  his 
sisters  and  Dr.  Landreth's  relative  and  guest, 
Miss  Flora  Weston. 

He  was  pleased  with  her,  and  the  liking 
was  mutual.  Don  was  a  handsome,  high- 
spirited  fellow,  and  could  be  very  entertaining 
in  conversation.  And  Flora,  with  improving 
health  and  spirits,  had  become  quite  an 
attractive  girl. 

The  friendship  at  length  ripened  into  love. 
She  remained  in  Pleasant  Plains  through  the 
winter,  and  before  spring  had  fairly  opened 
the  two  were  affianced,  with  the  knowledge 
and  consent  of  parents  and  relatives  on  both 
sides.  But  as  both  were  very  young,  the 
marriage  would  not  take  place  for  a  year  or 
more. 


MILDRED  AT  HOME.  327 

In  May  Mr.  Weston  came  for  his  daugh 
ter. 

His  home  was  in  New  Jersey,  where  he 
was  largely  engaged  in  manufactures,  and  he 
had  not  been  long  in  Pleasant  Plains  before  he 
proposed  that  Don  should  take  a  position  in 
his  business  establishment,  with  the  prospect 
of  becoming  a  partner  at  no  very  distant  day. 

Don  thanked  him  heartily,  took  a  few 
days  to  consider  the  matter  and  consult  with 
parents  and  friends,  then  accepted  the  offer, 
and  again  bade  farewell  to  home  and  kindred  ; 
but  this  time  the  parting  was  by  no  means  so 
sorrowful  as  on  a  former  occasion. 

He  was  not  going  so  far  away  or  into  such 
dangers,  difficulties,  and  temptations,  and 
might  hope  to  return  now  and  then  for  a  visit 
to  his  childhood's  home.  It  was  but  such  a 
separation  as  is  common  between  parents  and 
their  sons  grown  to  man's  estate. 

Here  we  will  leave  our  friends  for  the 
present,  perhaps  taking  up  the  thread  of  our 
narrative  again  at  some  future  day,  and  telling 
what  befell  them  in  after  years. 

THE   END. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


APR  i  9 


THE  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNia 
LOS  ANGELES 


PS     Finley  - 
1672   Mildrod 


F5zmh 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


homg» 


000037398  5 


PS 

1672 

FSzmh 


